


Float On

by Unknown



Series: Good News Is On The Way [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Mike Hanlon, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, IT Rewrite, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Transphobia, Pregnant Trans Character, Slice of Life, Slices of the Losers Clubs Lives, Teenage Losers Club (IT), Teenage Pregnancy, Trans Character, Trans Eddie Kaspbrak, Trans Male Character, Trans!Eddie Kaspbrak, discussion of suicide, written by a queer trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-10-27 21:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/pseuds/Unknown
Summary: ...even when it lands, good news will work its way to all them plans.Eddie Kaspbrak is trans, gay, and in love with one of his best friends. Which is okay, because that best friend is in love with him too. But one thing leads to another and they have a lot more than just small town bigotry to deal with.





	1. Bad News Comes - Don't You Worry

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ! TRIGGER WARNINGS!
> 
> There are abortion talks in here and pro-life/pro-choice esque contemplation. There is discussion and thought of suicide, though no attempted or actual suicide. Characters are underage when they have sex, however there are no scenes written about them. As in, there's no 'seen' underage sex - it's all off-screen and just referenced to. I'm not writing that shit, but I am writing the teen pregnancy trope, so. A lot of research into Maine's abortion rights movement (they did pass something 1993) and what their laws actually are; if anyone's curious, after around 25 weeks, there has to be a medical issue to parent or child. Or at least that's what I've read. Maybe it's changed. Moving on. 
> 
> There is period typical homophobia and transphobia here. There is a lot of talk on Eddie's end about feeling like he's not man enough, especially when he gets pregnant. As a transman, pregnancy fascinates me in the same way I'm sure car crashes fascinate other people. I like writing about them and exploring it from a trans person's point of view. This can be painful for other trans people, so be warned. There's also many references to homo- and transphobia. There's some fat-shaming in there at the start when Little Ben was fat as a kid. Eddie makes a comment about the antisemitism of the town, acknowledging that people in town don't see Stan the same way they see the others. There's also a joke (that's hopefully not seen as offensive? I thought it was clever of Stan) about the difference between the Torah and Talmud. Beverly says he has the wisdom of the Torah (book of instruction), while Stan corrects her and says that if they're talking about wisdom, then it makes more sense to say he has the wisdom of the Talmud (book of learning in Judaism that explains the meaning behind the written texts of the Torah). 
> 
> In no way do I, a queer transman and son of immigrants endorse any of the above prejudices - they are merely in the story to set the background of how it probably was for marginalized people during these years in America, and even what many of us face now. 
> 
> If they were 13 in 1989, then they're 17 in 1993. Bill's mom is a hero. So are Richie's parents. There's a lot of emotional and mental abuse from Sonia Kaspbrak, so please take care of yourselves. There's canon-typical violence. 
> 
> Perhaps some may think that the people in the background aren't phobic or realistic enough for the time period, but I put in as much of that as I could stomach. TBQH the opening scene in IT Chapter 2 made me cry and was way too much, especially paired with the canon Reddie ending, so. I didn't lean too heavily on that this time around. 
> 
> The title of this story is Float On, after the Modest Mouse song and because of the floating theme. We all float down here, as Pennywise would say. But this is way more positive. 
> 
> Alright. If there's anything else people think I need to tag, please let me know and I shall do so. My intention is not to make anyone uncomfortable or ill prepared to read this. I'm always open for discussion, especially if I say something insensitive and need it pointed out to me. I am always striving to be better and more open and understanding. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Please read FULL trigger warnings on the series page!)

It has to come out when they cliff jump. Cliff jumping is actually hyping the deed up – it’s not really a cliff and they’re more throwing themselves in bodily, but anyway.

Eddie won’t take off his shirt.

“Unsanitary,” he says. But his eyes are wide and terrified, and Richie knows why. They all do. Except Ben. Which is the problem.

“Th-the binder my mo-mom stitched you will ho-hold,” Bill says lowly. “Pr-promise.”

“But.” Eddie nods his head to Ben. Eddie’s face is turning red. He’d been six and his mom had been so happy that there was something _real _that she could ‘fix’ about her child. That had been the only reason, they were all sure, that Sonia Kaspbrak had been so good about Eddie coming out.

“It’s the 80s, Eds,” Richie says, even though Eddie hates being called Eds. But he says it to get a rise out of Eddie, to ease the tension, and when it doesn’t work, when Eddie says _nothing_, that’s how he knows how serious it is. “If Ben makes fun of you, I’ll just kill him.”

There’s something so real in his voice. Stan shifts in discomfort. Bill is speechless, which is good because if he could speak, he’d just be stuttering all around. Beverly lifts her chin up, already in her bra and underwear.

“Well, get in line Trashmouth,” she responds. “If Ben makes fun of him, I’ll kill him myself.” Though her eyes twinkle, there’s little humor in her voice. “It’s the 80s, after all.”

“Why am I making fun of Eddie?” Ben asks, nervous. He’s shirtless, but still in his shorts. “It’s kind of a big deal for me that I’ve got no shirt on in front of you guys. I mean. I’m. I’m fat. And probably ugly. So if anyone is gonna get made fun of, it’s me.”

They all look at Eddie.

“You don’t have to tell him,” Bill says, voice low still. Bill’s mom had been really good about it and about getting the other parents to get off Sonia’s back. They had thought this was another one of Sonia’s forces, but then Eddie had spoken up for himself and said, no he really felt this way, for once. Thank god it was Maine, someone had said. Thank god it was New England, said another. Mostly, people pretended it wasn’t happening, treated Eddie like he had been that way all along because it was easier than the alternative, than acknowledging that he hadn’t. Maybe people forgot. Maybe they thought he _had_ been like that all along and they had just been misinterpreting things.

Whatever it had been, it’d been seven years of Eddie being Eddie and only little kids, the elderly, and New Kids like Ben didn’t know things had ever been different for them.

“We’re Losers,” Eddie says. “Bill stutters and doesn’t have a little brother anymore.” Bill looks at his feet. “Beverly doesn’t have a mom anymore and her dad’s an ass and a creep.” Beverly nods; it’s true. “Stan’s Jewish – no offense Stan, there’s just not a lot of variety in town – and also doesn’t have a mom. _And_ his dad’s an ass.” Eddie stops. “Stan, you don’t have it easy.” Stan finds it in himself to chuckle at that. “Ben, you’re new. You were an outsider. And you’re fat.”

“I’m fat,” Ben says with a nod.

“Richie…” Eddie trails off. “I guess Richie’s just an assho-”

“I like boys,” Richie blurts. Eddie’s eyes go wide and his cheeks go red and his heart beats fast. None of their friends seem surprised though. “And girls. But. I like boys, too.” He turns to Eddie. “If you’re coming out, then I don’t see why you get to have all the fun alone.” He wipes his nose and spits to the side, like no one else can see his hands are shaking and his knees are wobbling.

“O-okay, I guess Richie likes boys, too,” Eddie says.

“Too?” Richie responds.

“I… I do,” Eddie says, looking away. Then he turns to Ben and word-vomits, “And-I-used-to-be-a-girl-but-now-I’m-not-so-there!”

Ben doesn’t say anything.

“I… I didn’t actually understand what you-”

“I used to be a girl, Haystack!” Eddie yells, his little casted arm going out to the side of him with the force of it. Bill’s face screws up and Stan rolls his eyes. Richie whistles low and Bev tries not to smile. “But I’m not, ok? Bill’s mom made me this _thing_ and I see a doctor in Augusta that stopped my puberty. Fuck, see?” Eddie struggles out of his polo, his casted arm stuck in a sleeve. Beverly is about to walk over and help him out of it, but Ben gets there first and carefully untangles Eddie’s arm.

“You’re gonna rebreak it, dummy,” Ben grumbles. He looks at Eddie, shirtless now. It looks like he’s wearing a black tank-top underneath the shirt. “So, what, this just… keeps it all in?”

“Well… yeah, I guess!” Eddie yells, both arms going up in exasperation. Everyone else watches in silence.

“Oh. Ok.” Ben shrugs. “Is it okay if it gets wet?”

“Well, well…” Eddie is staring at Ben with wide eyes. _That’s it?_ he thinks. Ben really doesn’t care. “Bill said it should be okay in the water.”

“Well, it’s like underwear then, right?” Ben says. He shrugs, his baby fat shrugging with him. “We’re not going in without our underwear, so just keep it on if that’s more comfortable for you.” Then Ben takes off his shorts. “Is that all?” He turns to the rest of them. “Anyone else have any other things that make them a Loser?”

Richie raises his hand. Everyone groans. “My dick is so freakin hu-”

“Beep-beep, Richie!” Beverly yells with a laugh, then chucks herself off the edge and into the water.

“Wow, I’ve never seen a girl run from you that fast before,” Stan says with a grin. He shrugs out of his clothes until he’s just in his underwear, leaving them carefully folded to the side. Bill leaves his in a heap next to Richie’s things. Ben grins and waits for Eddie to stand by him on their cliff.

“I’m glad you trusted me, man,” he says. He holds out a fist for Eddie to bump. Eddie does. “Nothing’s different, okay? Just…” He trails off.

_“What?”_ Eddie asks, afraid that Ben may be mean without intending to be.

“Is that why you cried when Bowers called you _girly boy_ that one time?” Ben asks. Eddie swallows around the lump in his throat, but he nods. Ben gets angry then, genuinely angry _for_ Eddie. “I hate that guy. I hate him.” He grips Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes it hard. “You’re a brave guy, Eddie.” Eddie smiles, feeling a little bit braver just because Ben said he was. Then Ben jumps in and Eddie follows, and they spend the afternoon in the quarry lake, having chicken fights, and pushing each other’s heads down in the water.

* * *

They can’t have official sleepovers, because his mom won’t let him stay overnight at anyone’s house, but once in a while, the Losers Club sneaks into his room at night and they all hang out. It’s a blessing that his mom’s room is downstairs and that Eddie’s is a floor up and on the other side of the house. Richie had started it, scaring Eddie half to death one night when he started tapping on the glass from the outside. Eddie had almost clobbered him with a lamp, but had dropped the makeshift weapon when he saw the light from the streetlights reflecting on Richie’s glasses.

They have an unofficial sleepover the weekend after they get rid of It.

Everyone agrees to meet at Eddie’s house around midnight. They all know how to climb up the tree outside his window and jimmy open the latch to get inside. Eddie is cleaning his room and trying not to be suspicious about it. His mom is heading to bed and kisses him goodnight, putting too much uncomfortable emphasis on the _little man_ she tacks onto the end. He guesses he should be thankful that she didn’t send him to one of those scary camps to get ‘fixed’ or something, but he wishes that she were a bit more genuine in her support of him. Like the others are.

Like Richie.

Eddie flops onto his back on the bed and covers his face with his hands even though there’s no one there to see him blush. What the hell had Richie been thinking that day, telling them all he liked girls _and_ boys? What had _Eddie_ been thinking, saying he liked boys too? It’s true, he does like boys, but wow. He knows Bill’s told Mike, because Eddie _asked _Bill to just tell Mike. Telling Ben had been too scary. And Mike hadn’t cared, had just shrugged because he knew, sorta, about Eddie, and when he was told that two of the losers liked boys like Beverly, he shrugged and admitted he could appreciate the male physique too, if given the chance. Then he’d winked at Eddie, called him Eddie The Man, and high-fived him for being cool.

Eddie really likes Mike.

Just… not like how he likes Richie. How he’s _liked_ Richie.

Richie is loud and brash, the opposite of Eddie. But he’s got a big heart and puts himself on the line just so Eddie wouldn’t have to be alone and Eddie loves that about him. He loves that Richie will always stand by them. Whether it’s walking Beverly home so she has someone to rely on while she’s preparing to face her dad, or helping Bill order things so no one makes fun of his stutter, or going to all of Stan’s religious milestones, or not making fun of Ben and letting him rant to him about his love of New Kids on The Block even though they all know Richie doesn’t care, or helping Mike with his meat deliveries when he’s swamped and has a lot to do, Richie won’t ever let them suffer alone.

Sometimes, he’ll come over Eddie’s alone at night and sit with him on the bed when he knows Eddie’s had a hard day. He’ll crack jokes and annoy Eddie so that Eddie is thinking of him and nothing bad. Eddie loves those days.

He might love Richie _like that_.

“I’m 13,” Eddie mutters to himself. “I don’t know what love is.”

But he thinks love might be holding someone’s ice cream cone for them when they go to the bathroom or sharing your comics and hammock with them while they hold your leg. Maybe love is setting someone’s arm in a sewer or sharing your bike with them when theirs has a flat tire. Maybe love is just saying someone’s name and feeling your chest get tight when they respond with just a look.

Maybe this is love.

“Maybe I’m stupid,” Eddie says into his hands.

“You’re definitely stupid, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says from the window. Eddie yelps and falls off his bed. When he resurfaces, he checks the alarm on his nightstand. It’s only 10:30.

“Why are you here?” Eddie snaps. He sits back up on the bed, rubbing his arm. Thankfully, the one without the cast took the brunt of the fall.

“I uh.” Richie stops and Eddie has to look up. Richie looks unsure. He’s sitting on Eddie’s windowsill, his skinny legs straddling it. But he won’t look up at Eddie. “Can we go for a walk?”

“Is that really safe?” Eddie asks, out of habit. But he remembers, right before Richie says it.

“We just killed It,” Richie snorts. “No one’s out there except murderers and pedos, now.”

“Oh, jeez, Richie. That’s so much better,” Eddie says, but he’s standing up and walking to the window. He wonders if he should grab a sweater, because he knows he gets cold, but he sees that Richie has one and wonders if Richie will give it to him if he complains. Probably not, because Richie’s default personality is _asshole_ but if he never tries, he’ll never know. Eddie leaves the sweater. “Let’s go.”

“Seriously?” Richie asks. When he looks at Eddie, his eyes are bright.

“Yeah, fine. Let’s go. _Go_,” he emphasizes when Richie just sits there. “Dude. C’mon.”

“Right, okay.”

“Before everyone else shows up and we’re still not back. Where did you want to go?”

“I… want to show you something,” Richie mumbles. He climbs out and hops into the tree, waiting there with a hand out to steady Eddie as he goes. His cast arm makes it sort of hard, but Richie makes sure he doesn’t fall and break any other appendages.

When they’re finally out of the yard, Richie grabs his wrist briefly and tugs him down the right street. But he lets go and Eddie tries not to feel disappointed about it all. It’s the 80s and it’s _Derry_ and also, just because he’s acknowledged his crush on Richie doesn’t mean he has to be weird about everything now. Richie thinks they’re friends and the Losers Club may be the best friends Eddie’s ever had. He loves them all dearly, he just loves Richie differently.

“Where we going?” Eddie asks again.

“It’s a surprise!” Richie sing-songs. He spins around and grins widely. Eddie can’t really see his eyes in the dark, but he knows they’re gleaming with joy. There’s a relaxed line to Richie’s shoulders. The past few weeks are slowly fading, and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s because It is really dead or because that’s what memories do. Anyway, relaxed and happy is a good look on Richie. Eddie just doesn’t know how to say so. Neither does Richie. Richie has noticed the memories fading, and they’ll all probably talk about it tonight, but right now, he’s noticed that Eddie’s happier. A bit on edge, but he’s always on edge.

“Better not be something stupid,” Eddie mutters. He shivers involuntarily, then stops with a start. He hadn’t thought his little plan would be put into motion so soon.

“You cold, Eds?” Richie asks.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says, more out of habit than anything else. But he also shrugs. “And a bit. Whatever. Let’s just hurry up so we can go back and I can wear my fleece pjs.”

“I bet they’re monogramed. EK, right on the pocket,” Richie says, even as he takes off his sweater without thinking and chucks it at Eddie’s face. “Don’t freeze to death, you big baby.”

Eddie’s ears are burning but he can’t say anything because the sweater smells like Richie. Richie looks over, like he’s waiting to see what Eddie does, and is holding his breath. So Eddie puts on the sweater because he wants to and it would be rude not to since Richie took it off for him. Richie looks relieved.

“We almost there?” Eddie asks. Just because It is technically gone doesn’t mean that Derry in the dark isn’t frightening. Henry Bowers is still out there with his dickhead gang and that’s scary enough as it is.

“Uh, yeah, we’re here actually,” Richie says, slowing down.

They’re on a bridge. _The_ bridge, Eddie realizes. Richie brought him to the Kissing Bridge.

“Look, if you’re gonna pull some weird kind of joke on me, just don’t, okay? I’m not in the mo-”

“Could you shut the fuck up and just look over here, you fucking disaster?” Richie asks, cutting Eddie off. Eddie can’t swallow, feels like he’s going to have an asthma attack or worse – is this what a heart attack feels like? But he walks over to where Richie is pointing and the light from the street sort of falls on the section of the bridge Richie wants him to see. Eddie looks, squinting in the lowlight and right there, scratched into the bridge, two letters connected by a plus sign: R + E.

“Uh.”

“I did that,” Richie says. Eddie looks at him and Richie is looking off into the water, hands gripping the wood railing. “I… It’s for us.” Richie looks at his ratty sneakers, the soles peeling off from the rest of the shoe, his scabby knees knocking together with nerves. But this boy has stood up to monsters for Eddie and Eddie likes to think he’s done the same for him. This, this should be cake.

“Richie,” is all he can say, because the air just won’t fill his lungs. Well fuck.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything ok? I know, I know you know I like guys too, but I like _you_, okay? I know it’s stupid, it’s so stupid. And beep-beep Richie, this is ridiculous Richie, I know, I fucking know!” Richie says, clearly in his own crisis and not realizing that Eddie is having one of his own, fumbling for his FannyPack under Richie’s sweater. He should have taken it off first and then put it on over the sweater, but that would have taken too much time. “But I do, I like you, _a lot_. And we almost got killed off by some fucking _clown monster_ and that scared me so much. So I thought I should tell you in case we’re wrong and It kills us one of these nights. I don’t want to die without you knowing, ok?” Richie turns to Eddie, where he’s still struggling and gasping. “Say something, would ya, Eds?”

“My – inhaler,” Eddie gasps out. The sweater is half off, his FannyPack twisted in it.

“Ah fuck,” Richie says, eyes comically wide behind his bottle-glass lenses. He untangles Eddie and gets the inhaler from his pack, putting it to Eddie’s mouth and depressing the button when Eddie nods. Eddie sucks in a deep breath, remembers that it’s all fake, but doesn’t really care for the moment because he feels better. “Were you quietly dying while I was having a moment?”

“You’re so – self-absorbed,” Eddie wheezes, though his breathing is evening out.

“Did you hear any of that?” Richie snaps. “I like you, asshole.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. You seriously carved our initials into the Kissing Bridge like a lovesick puppy, Trashmouth?” Eddie snaps back.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are we still gonna be friends or are you done with me?” Richie yells, throwing his hands up.

Eddie is… confused. “Are those my only options?” he asks. Because that didn’t seem fair. Or right.

Richie looks confused right back and genuinely shows it for the first time.

“Uh. What other options are there, dipshit?” he asks. Like he can’t even fathom that Eddie might actually like him back, might want him back.

“Well, I, shit, I,” Eddie starts. He pushes Richie back a step with a sharp shove to both his shoulders. “Maybe I like you, too. Okay?” he yells. “Jeez, Richie. You – you take me all the way to the stupid Kissing Bridge at night and show me where you carved our initials and then tell me you _like_-like me and just, what expect me to leave you alone forever or pretend this never happened?”

“You like me?” Richie says, not really paying attention to anything else. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Seriously?”

“Yes!” Eddie yells. “I…” Wow. He just… went out there and said that, didn’t he? “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess, or you do?” Richie teases.

“I guess I do,” Eddie responds tiredly.

“Eduardo,” Richie gushes, both hands over his heart like he’s been shot through the chest with an arrow of love.

“_Don’t_ you dare start,” Eddie says. He covers his face and groans. “Ugh. Can we just – I don’t know, kiss, and then go back to my house? I’m actually freezing and I’m so embarrassed I can’t really look at you straight.”

“I think not looking at me straight is the whole poi – wait did you say you wanna kiss me?” Richie gasps.

_“No tongue!”_ Eddie yelps, looking up. “I swear to God Richie, if I feel your slimy little tongue…”

“I won’t, no tongue!” Richie swears. He gets closer and they both close their eyes. Then Richie presses his lips to Eddie’s. They’re soft and dry, a bit shaky. But the pressure feels nice. They’re both bright red when they pull away. “Cool.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie says. “But. Fine. That was kinda cool.” He sticks out his good hand. “It’s dark enough that people won’t be able to see us holding hands when we walk back.” Richie takes his hand. There’s a million excuses in his head in case someone stops them or catches them holding hands while walking back. But Richie does take Eddie’s hand.

They’re around the block from the Kaspbrak household when Richie asks, “Hey. Does this mean you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“I dunno. Does this mean you’re asking?” Eddie counters, not able to look at Richie.

“Why do _I_ have to ask?” Richie whines.

“Good point,” Eddie says. A small insecurity tugs at his heart, that says he isn’t a real boy if _he_ doesn’t ask Richie to date him. Richie has nothing to prove to the world, but Eddie thinks he does. “Wanna be my boyfriend, Richard Tozier?”

“Eeww, don’t say my whole name like that!” Richie yelps.

“It’s only when I’m super serious!” Eddie says back. He stops, right by the tree near his room. “Do you want to or not?”

“Yeah, I do,” Richie admits. “Boyfriends?”

“Boyfriends,” Eddie agrees. “Okay. Help me up. Everyone will be here soon. You can tell them,” he adds.

“I’m gonna tell them you Frenched me,” Richie says with a devious grin while giving Eddie a boost up the tree. “Mighty fine behind you got there, by the way, Eddie-Boy.”

“Don’t ogle me,” Eddie replies, though he doesn’t really mean it. “And don’t you _dare_ tell them I used my tongue, you dirty liar. You’re about to be single as fast you got a boyfriend.”

“Joking, joking,” Richie says quickly, following Eddie up the tree. He helps Eddie get back inside and they made it just in time. Five minutes later, Beverly is tapping on the window before lifting it to come in. She’s followed by Ben and Stan. A few minutes after that, Bill and Mike climb in, one after the other.

“I brought Monopoly!” Bill says.

“I brought beer,” Beverly adds.

“I have snacks,” Ben says.

“Me too,” Mike replies, lifting his bag.

“I brought myself,” Stan slides in, getting Mike to laugh so hard he snorts. It sets Bill off like always and then the two of them laugh themselves into a stupor.

“I brought my boyfriend,” Richie throws in casually, just to see who’s paying attention. Apparently, everyone is. Five heads snap over to look at him in shock, while one head was already staring in his direction. Eddie smacks Richie on the arm.

“What the hell man? What the hell kind of announcement was that? I deserve better than that, have you ever heard of _tact_?” Eddie shrieks.

“You’re gonna wake your mom up with all that caterwauling!” Richie jokes, a pleased smile on his face.

“You don’t even know what that word means!” Eddie insists.

“Wait, he means you?” Beverly asks, pointing at Eddie. “You’re voluntarily dating Richie _The Trashmouth_ Tozier?”

Ben is eating some pre-popped popcorn already as he watches. Stan doesn’t look surprised at all. Bill and Mike keep sharing incredulous glances. Beverly is trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, so?” Eddie says. “I already regret this. Can I take it back?” he moans into Richie’s shoulder where he’s hiding his face now. It means he doesn’t see the look of fear on Richie’s face when he says it, but everyone else does. It’s then that they realize their friends are serious and all five of the other Losers make a silent promise to protect and support these two, no matter what.

“No takesy-backsies!” Richie yelps. When Eddie slowly raises his head, Richie coughs to clear his throat. “I mean, not unless you actually want to…”

“No, I…” He looks over to their friends. Ben and Mike have passed out snacks to the others who are all watching with rapt attention. “What the hell you guys?”

“Don’t stop on our account,” Stan says, eating a Twizzler. “This is better than Monopoly.”

“Definitely,” Beverly agrees, and reaches over Ben to high-five Stan.

“So, are you guys gonna stay dating or…?” Mike asks, shoving popcorn in his face.

“Yes, we’re gonna stay dating. We only _just _started,” Eddie explains. He turns to Richie. “I was kidding about taking it back. Jeez, for the guy who dishes out all the jokes, you sure can’t take them, can you?”

“I can so take a joke!” Richie sputters. But he does hold Eddie’s hand while Bill and Ben set up Monopoly. Usually, two of them have to share a piece since there aren’t enough for everyone, or they use a random LEGO block they find in someone’s room. But Richie and Eddie have been declared sharing-cos-they’re-dating, so it makes game set up a little easier. “I can take a joke,” Richie says again, just to Eddie this time in a whisper. “But… could you not joke about dating me? That… that’s not a good joke.”

“It’s not a joke at all,” Eddie says, feeling bad. “Sorry.” He snuggles down into Richie’s sweater, still on his thin body.

“I forgive you,” Richie says with a smirk. He kisses the top of Eddie’s head, and Eddie doesn’t even talk about germs. It’s a start, even if it’s a small one.

“Let’s see how long this lasts,” Stan says to Beverly when no one else is paying attention. She smiles wide.

“Yeah. Let’s.”


	2. Even If Things End Up A Bit Too Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 1993, everyone is excited to be finishing junior year and heading into their last year of high school, except. Well. Richie and Eddie have some choices to make, and once they finally do, they must contend with the fact that not everyone is going to agree with them. Or make their lives easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings from previous chapter hold up for this one as well. Sonia Kaspbrak is very abusive and says some transphobic as fuck things. There are talks of abortion. There are thoughts of what it means to be trans or a 'real' trans person that are very introspective. Anyone who is trans, please take care. It was hard for me to write, but I put myself in Eddie's shoes for a moment and thought, shit what if this was me, what would I be thinking/what would I be afraid someone was going to say to me? And this came out. Very very brief and vague allusions to CSA when it comes to Beverly talking about Eddie's and Richie's situation. Teen pregnancy and those difficulties ensue. Please let me know if I need to insert any other triggers, thanks. 
> 
> There's also a joke (that's hopefully not seen as offensive? I thought it was clever of Stan) about the difference between the Torah and Talmud. Beverly says he has the wisdom of the Torah (book of instruction), while Stan corrects her and says that if they're talking about wisdom, then it makes more sense to say he has the wisdom of the Talmud (book of learning in Judaism that explains the meaning behind the written texts of the Torah). 
> 
> Also: I have no idea if Richie's parents have canon names? Because they are called Tom and Kyla here. And he has an older sister because I said so but ALSO because I've been watching Stranger Things and seeing a character of Finn Wolfhard's without an older sister is weird.

_4 Years Later…_

It keeps lasting. In fact, it lasts 4 whole years before anything remotely bad happens that can’t be solved with ice cream and lies to their parents.

“Beverly!” Eddie yells. She runs into the bathroom. Since she’s moved in with her aunt a town over, she’s only been able to visit on the weekends. Eddie desperately wishes she still went to school with them. So does Ben. He’s been thinking of asking her to prom and he’s joined the track team at school. Beverly had actually _blushed_ the last time Ben had gotten a book for her from his shelf and just so happened to flex when he reached for it. Eddie wishes them the best of luck, he does. But right now, he has bigger fish to fry.

“Oh god,” she says. “Eddie.”

“What do I do?” he asks.

He’d only just started hormones last year. His voice is dropping like all of his friends’ voices did when they were fourteen, so he’s not so far behind. He has peach fuzz on his upper lip and hair springing all over him. His bodyfat has moved around a bit, his musculature has changed. His clit is two inches long and _maybe_ Richie’s favorite appendage on his body. He’s barely seventeen and they’re finishing their third year of high school soon.

He’s _pregnant._

“Weren’t you guys using protection?” Beverly asks, sitting next to him on the bathroom floor.

“My mom’s gonna kill me,” Eddie says weakly. He can’t even think about that right now. He still has to tell _Richie_. “Holy fuck.”

“Eddie!” Beverly says, pinching his arm.

“Yes, mostly,” Eddie says. “But I thought… well, the hormones stopped my periods before they ever really started, you know. The hormone blockers I was on as a kid really slowed that down too. So I thought… I don’t know, maybe it was stupid, but I thought that it wouldn’t really work. Or at least it would be a lot harder. So sometimes, if the condom slipped off, or broke or whatever, I told him to just keep going.”

_“Eddie,”_ Beverly gasps.

“I’m sorry!” Eddie snaps and he’s crying. They’re all supposed to go catch a move and go to the arcade after but Eddie can’t even stand, never mind actually walk downtown. He’d been feeling lethargic lately and had thrown up during first period right into a bin in the middle of class. Some asshole who remembered far too much from their childhoods had made a transphobic comment about him being knocked up because he had the Trashmouth’s dick so far up his ass, but something had clicked in Eddie’s mind. He’d had Beverly go buy him some home tests when she was down for the weekend, since she was no longer a familiar face in Derry and would draw less attention than _Eddie _going in. She’s staying at Richie’s house because he had an older sister with bunkbeds and his parents _knew_ he was with Eddie in that way and had been oddly good about it. _It’s the 90s_, his mom had said, _and our teenage son has a transsexual, gay lover_. His dad had shrugged and asked what was for dinner, then had heatedly whisper-asked if _transsexual_ was the right term since he didn’t want them to seem unsupportive or ignorant.

“Just keep calling him a man and you’ll be fine, honey,” she’d said to her husband. “That _is_ who he is, after all.” Then she’d turned to Eddie and said, “Although, I will question your taste in men because I love him, but even I know my Richie is a bit… well.”

“Dim,” Richie’s sister had snorted. Eddie had to smile at that.

Eddie wonders how well they’re going to take this.

“Holy fuck, Beverly. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

“I know, I know,” Beverly says, laying his head in her lap. Thank god his mother isn’t home right now.

“What do I do?”

“Tell him?” Beverly says. “Then you two can come up with a plan together. If you want to keep it or get rid of it.”

Eddie blanks a bit. He hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t have to hate the thought of his body betraying him in ways he never wanted to contemplate. He didn’t have to go through with this. Somehow, they’d all find the money together and he’d get rid of it before anyone else in Derry even knew. He doesn’t feel bad for having the thought. He just doesn’t know if it’s what he wants.

Everything is so hard right now. He just wants Richie.

“What time did we say we were gonna meet for the movie?” Eddie asks, tears silently sliding down his face to drip onto Beverly’s skirt.

“6:30,” she tells him. She checks her watch. “You’ve got half any hour to decide if you want to stay home or if you’re gonna clean up and go. I’ll stick with you, every step of the way.”

“You’re too good for this world,” Eddie mutters. “And I’m on the bathroom floor. This is disgusting.” He sits up, wiping his face on the back of his hand. “Happy Birthday to me,” he mutters darkly. “Not the birthday present I thought I’d be getting this year. Fucking Trashmouth and his potent swimmers.” Beverly snorts.

“Seems like _someone’s_ sense of humor is rubbing off on you.”

“I’ve been with him for almost _four years_.” Eddie shakes his head. “I’d be more concerned if it wasn’t. And I wish that was the only part of him that rubbed off on me.” His hand unconsciously goes to his stomach and then he yanks it away as if burned. “If I do that tonight, smack my arm – _gently_,” he adds. “I’m so fragile.”

“No, you’re not,” Beverly says, standing up. “C’mon Kaspbrak. Let’s go watch a movie with our loser friends and forget about this for tonight.”

It doesn’t really work.

Eddie doesn’t pay attention to the movie, _Groundhog Day,_ where Bill Murray keeps reliving the same day over and over again. Richie is laughing, has an arm flung around his shoulders in the dark of the theatre. Eddie has spent the whole movie with his face in Richie’s armpit, trying not to think about anything. He knows Richie wants to ask what’s up, but he’s waiting for Eddie to make the first move, to say he wants to talk about it. Richie never wants to push Eddie past his limit. Eddie appreciates it, but right now, he doesn’t know what his limit is.

Eddie’s going to throw up.

He pushes away from Richie and almost falls down the walkway running out of the theatre to the bathrooms in the halls. He at least makes it to a handicap toilet before he dry heaves. There’s nothing that comes out, but he spits a bit to get the sour taste of bile out of his mouth.

“Eddie?”

Richie.

Eddie sticks his foot out from under the stall door and hears Richie patter over. Eddie can see his boots. There’s a scuff on the toe of one from when Richie kicked some asshole’s bike until the frame bent because he called them fags. The door jimmies for a moment and then Richie gets it open from the outside, pocketing the blade he used to turn the handle.

“You… don’t look so hot,” Richie says. “And that’s saying something coming from me, because I think you’re always hot.” The joke falls flat. Richie’s grown half a foot since they were 13. He’s still long armed and gangly, and he keeps his hair in a shag. But now he wears a leather jacket he inherited from his dad and those stupid military-grade boots he got from a thrift shop last year. He still cracks jokes, but they’re _actually_ sort of funny now. He always hugs Eddie tight. He always kisses him when he drops him off at home, in the shade of the tree outside his room window.

Eddie is terrified.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Spaghetti?” Richie asks. He gets into the stall with Eddie and locks the door behind himself. Eddie stays on the floor, face pressed to the porcelain of a public toilet. He feels too awful to care about the germs right now. “Babe, that’s disgusting. And that’s also you’re line. What the fuck?”

“Just, help me up?” Eddie asks. Richie hauls him to his feet. But then he sits on the toilet and drags Eddie into his lap. Eddie hides his face in Richie’s chest and stays there.

“You’re kind of scaring me, Eddie,” Richie admits. “C’mon. You know I’m no good at this part.”

“I messed up,” Eddie whispers, feeling numb. “I messed up and now I don’t know what to do.”

“What did you mess up? Is it worse than that time in chemistry when I literally exploded that beaker and got glass in my face?” Richie asks, trying to make him laugh.

“That wasn’t funny, you masochist, that was terrifying,” Eddie mumbles. “Can we just sit here for a bit? I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Okay,” Richie says. So they sit there.

Eddie doesn’t know how long they’ve been there, but at some point in the long drag of time, he whispers, “I’m pregnant,” against Richie’s coat. Richie goes stiff.

“Oh,” he says. And then, _“Oh fuck.”_

“I’m sorry,” Eddie cries, clutching to Richie. Because Richie likes to run away from things. He always runs. And Eddie can’t bear it if he runs from this. “I’m sorry,” Eddie cries again, not sure what he’s sorry for.

“Eds,” Richie says. But he can’t continue. He just holds Eddie tighter, which is better than the running. Richie feels stupid, like he should be apologizing to Eddie, and not the other way around. This kind of shit is usually the fault of the person with a penis, because he got to choose where to shoot his load, and even though Eddie always said it was okay, he shot it in Eddie too many times with not enough precautions. “Eds.”

“Stop calling me that,” Eddie tries, just to break the tension. It works, to some extent. Richie starts to chuckle and then Eddie does, and they’re both laughing so hard, they’ve got tears in their eyes. Eddie _does_ break down in tears. “I don’t know if I can actually be pregnant,” he sobs into Richie’s shoulder.

“That’s okay,” Richie admits. “I mean, fuck man, I don’t know if I can actually be a dad.” His hands are shaking, always shaking. There are things that happened when they were kids that Eddie doesn’t really remember anymore, but Richie’s hands were shaking then, too. They shook the night he told Eddie he liked him on the Kissing Bridge. They shook when they first had sex. They shook when Richie first told Eddie he loved him. Richie’s hands shake when he’s serious or scared. “Actually, get up for a second, Eddie.” Eddie does. Richie proceeds to turn his face to the toilet and vomit.

Yeah. Richie throws up when he’s scared, too.

“Thank god I’m not a sympathy vomiter,” Eddie says, even though his eyes are closed because he was just pressed to that toilet and it’s catching up with him. “Oh god, I need to wash. _You_ definitely need to at least brush your teeth.”

“What are we gonna do Eddie?” Richie says into the toilet bowl.

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits. Does he want to get rid of it? What if he never has kids again? What if he and _Richie_ never have kids again? Does he even want kids? He feels like a kid himself, most days. Though, he knows adulthood isn’t too far away for them now.

“I’m sorry,” Richie finally says.

“Shut up, asshole,” Eddie snaps. Suddenly, he doesn’t like that Richie is apologizing for their kid, like they’re a mistake. Maybe an accident, but he would never want anyone to feel like a mistake, like he felt for so much of his life. “Just – shut up, okay? I’m already a freak, don’t make me feel worse about it.”

“You’re not a freak!” Richie hisses, hands gripping the sides of the toilet. But his gaze has zeroed in on Eddie. There’s some vomit flecked on his glasses. Disgusting. “You’re an idiot and a crybaby, but you’re not a freak, so don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“At least you’re not dumping me,” Eddie mutters, the thought occurring to him too.

“I’ve been with you for how long?” Richie splutters. “And – and what, fuckhead, you think some contraceptive slip-up is going to make me want to leave the love of my life?” Richie’s mouth shuts with a clack of his teeth slamming together, but the words are already out. “Forget I said that,” he mumbles.

But Eddie… can’t.

“I’m the love of your life?” Eddie says. “You’re seventeen. What do you know?”

“Nothing, I don’t know anything,” Richie says, looking away. He stands up. “Whatever, let’s just go.”

“No, what the fuck do you know, Tozier!?” Eddie snaps, standing up on vertigo legs. Richie’s said I love you before, but this is something else. This is different. It’s scary. Eddie is scared.

“I said nothing!”

“No! What do you know, anyway!”

“I know what makes you fall asleep faster!” Richie yells. He hadn’t meant to yell that. Richie looks just as shocked as Eddie does.

“Yeah, how?” Eddie spits.

“Play with your hair. Scratch your scalp. You – you knock right out. And I – I know you’d rather your alarm wake you up than a person shaking you awake. You say you hate sweet things, but you love those little Mexican donuts – _conchas_.” Richie is panting. He doesn’t know why it seems important to say but there’s so much that suddenly needs to be said. “You won’t compliment yourself, but you’ll take a compliment from someone else. When it rains, the arm you broke when we were 13 hurts, but you complain about stupid shit all the time, you don’t think anyone will believe you. But I believe you. I see you rub at it during storms.”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Eddie says around a sob.

“No way, fuck you! Don’t ‘beep-beep Richie’ me, not right now!” Richie insists. “I know you like organizing things cos you’re fucking weird, and that if you’re gonna drink a hot drink, you’re gonna drink it while it’s hot enough to burn your tongue and throat, or else, what’s the point? You carry extra _everything_ in your stupid FannyPack in case any of us needs something. You always have a few extra dollars from working at the post office during the week, in case someone is short. You never ask for any of it back. You love ice cream.”

“Richie,” Eddie says, his lips trembling.

“You’re scared of your mom and you’re scared of getting sick or hurting yourself, but you’re even more scared of one of us getting sick or hurt. You love our friends. You love _me_,” Richie says. “Your eyes get so big when you look at me that _I_ get scared. That’s why I’m always fucking shaking around you.” Richie sounds mad but he’s not mad. He’s not. He just wants Eddie to see himself the way Richie does. “Every day, you rise above your fear. You go do stupid shit with the rest of us Losers even though it scares you half to death. You’ve been dating _me _these past few years. Behind your mom’s back. Even though the people who hate us could hurt us if they found out. You’re a self-made man in a time where people are afraid of what they don’t understand.” He gathers Eddie against his chest. “You’re braver than you think, man. And I’m never gonna love anyone like I love you. Not ever.” He stops. “Well. Maybe the kid, if you decide you want to keep it,” he mutters lowly. “But that’s for you to think about.”

Something warm is spilling into Eddie’s chest. It makes his toes tingle and his face heat. It’s not sexual stirrings and it’s not just platonic affection. Richie is loud and brash. But he’s Eddie’s, through and through. Eddie thinks that makes him the luckiest guy in the world. But also…

“Does this make me less of a man to you?” Eddie asks. Richie freezes.

“What?”

“Having a baby. Does that make me less-”

_“Abso-fucking-lutely not,”_ Richie swears. “Eddie look at me. Hey. _Edward.”_ That gets Eddie’s attention. He grimaces. “Yeah, I know. But I’m serious.” Eddie’s said something like that before, hasn’t he? “Nothing can make you less of a man. Because you are one. Just like nothing I do or Ben does or even Bill does, not Mike or Stan. We’re all men. So are you. Nothing’s gonna change that. You’re just, I dunno. Closer to God or whatever, cos you can create life like He can.”

“You don’t really believe in God,” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, but. You kinda do, right?” Richie says with a shrug. Eddie nods. Richie wipes away the tears drying on his cheeks. “I’m right here, Eds. I’m right here. Let me be here, okay? Keep it, get rid of it, put it up for adoption, whatever. Do what you gotta do. I’m still gonna be right here, right with my man, okay?” Then he pinches Eddie’s cheek. “Moron.”

“You were so sweet like, ten seconds ago,” Eddie says mulishly. He’s pointing. Richie’s smile is so blinding. “Is that anyway to treat your baby daddy? The love of your life? The star in your sk-” Richie kisses him just to shut him up. Then he shoves his tongue in Eddie’s mouth because he’s still the same asshole Eddie fell in love with when he was 10. It tastes like puke. Eddie pushes him away and gags. “Fuck off.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

They forgo the arcade and go to the new, 24/7 diner that opened up downtown to tell their friends. Everyone’s a little shocked. But they keep it together.

“What do you wanna do?” Bill asks. “I-if you even kn-know yet?”

“I think I need some time,” Eddie admits. “It’s scary. A part of me wants to get as far away from this as possible cos it’s not what _I_ should do, ya know? I’m a guy. But…” He trails off. Looks at Richie from the corner of his eye. Richie hasn’t let go of his hand under the table the whole time they’ve been there. “But then. I don’t know. I think of him. Of us. This is ours, no one else’s. It feels. Oddly special.” He slams his head down on the table, making Mike jump. “I’m 17, what the fuck do I know?”

“A lot,” Ben tells him. “You know what you want and what you can handle. You know you need some time to think about it. We can look into where things can get done and for how much,” Ben says, discreet as always. “We’ll work on money things. If that’s what you decide.”

“Yeah, I don’t need my boyfriend dying in an alley with some backstreet abortionist like this is _Spring Awakening_ or something,” Richie mutters, finally saying what they’ve all been alluding to. It makes Eddie freeze up a bit. “At least it’s legal in Maine, up to a certain time, which we would have to figure out.”

“They just passed some laws defending abortion rights this year, actually,” Ben informs them.

“There’s a Planned Parenthood in Bangor,” Mike says. He shrugs. “We can do a day trip to the big city down the lane to visit Beverly at her aunt’s and … stop in. See what your choices are.”

“We’ll all be there for you guys,” Stan says softly. He has some opinions on these options, but he knows it’s all due to religious upbringing and that technically, there are some grey areas in Judaism when it comes to contraceptives and abortion, especially when causing distress or health threats to the person carrying the child. He looks at Eddie and thinks that his friend certainly falls into both those categories. He’d rather his friend get an abortion if he thinks he needs one instead of killing himself sometime down the line because he can’t handle the mental distress it’s causing.

“Yeah, my aunt’s been dying to meet you all,” Beverly says, trying to lighten the situation. “We can make a whole day of it. Richie, your mom has a minivan, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie says, eyes still locked on Eddie next to him. “I can borrow it.”

“Then it’s settled!” Beverly says, clapping her hands. “Now, I’m ordering a chocolate malted, who’s in?”

* * *

In the 2 weeks leading up to their visit, Eddie thinks a lot.

He’s good at that – over thinking, that is. But he thinks that of all things to over think, this is the one to do it with. It’s not a joke, it’s not easy, and it’s certainly nothing to be under thought. Most nights, Richie sneaks in through his window and lays with him until the sky starts to lighten. Eddie doesn’t outright ask him _what should I do_ because at the end of the day, it’s his choice. Richie wanting to be a parent or not is coming second to Eddie’s wanting to be a parent or not. Because Richie can walk away, which sucks to admit but is true. Eddie can’t really walk away.

Because if he has this kid, it’s going to be _his_ kid. He doesn’t want to give them away. If he’s going to carry them around for nine months, deal with how society is going to look at him during that, and then go through the trauma of pushing them out of his body, then he is most definitely going to keep the end result. And maybe he has to start college later and work two jobs and live with someone for a bit longer than he wants. Maybe he has to reroute his life at the age of 17 for this kid. Maybe he has to lose Richie.

That’s the part that hurts the most.

He knows his friends won’t abandon him. He knows even when it gets tough for him, they’ll be there. And usually, that goes for Richie too, because they were friends for seven years before they decided to give it a go and keep going. Sure, maybe dating since you were 13 isn’t the best foundation for having a baby with someone at 17, but being friends since you were six has to count for something. But that’s also the problem – he’s not _just_ friends with Richie anymore. They’re boyfriends. Partners. Richie can’t go home at the end of the day and just forget about it if he wants to stick around, not like their friends can. Richie has to take responsibility, or else, what’s the point in sticking around?

That. Eddie asks about that.

“If I don’t keep it, it doesn’t matter, right?” Eddie says in the dark. They lie side by side, on their backs looking up at the ceiling where his glow-in-the-dark stickers from fourth grade shine that yellow-green color and don’t really illuminate anything. “We’re still good together?”

“Of course,” Richie says, like Eddie is stupid for thinking otherwise. “Why would that stop me from being with you, Eds?” Eddie squeezes his hand tightly, digging his nails in a bit for the _Eds_ thing.

“Dunno,” Eddie responds. “Maybe you _want_ a kid.”

“Someday, maybe,” Richie admits. “Maybe now. Maybe in a decade. Whatever you want.”

“So you _do_ still think you can be with me in a decade?” Eddie clarifies. Richie scoffs.

“Dude,” he says. “I’ve known you for _eleven_ years. I think I can know you for eleven more, no sweat.” Richie bumps their shoulders. “You can’t scare me away. You’re not that scary.”

“Childbirth is scary,” Eddie responds with a shudder. People die from that, he thinks. People also live from that, which may be the harder thing. “People die.” _But I’ve almost died before_, Eddie thinks, wondering why he knows it to be true if he can’t remember the circumstance. _We’ve both almost died before, but we’re alive._

“People die. Yeah…” Richie says softly. “Not everyone though. Not like people used to. Not when they, like, had to squat over those weird chairs with a hole in it that looks like a toilet.” Eddie can already feel the joke coming on. “You wanna have our baby over a toilet chair, Spaghetti?” Richie laughs, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “You pitch, I’ll catch.”

This is the problem. _This_. Richie sometimes says _our baby _and Eddie feels warm from his head to his toes. Richie says _we can have a baby now or in a decade because I’ll still be here_ and Eddie feels the warm rush of relief sparking through his veins. Richie says _we_, he says _our_, and what he means is _together_. Eddie speaks Richie Tozier fluently. He knows Richie isn’t going to run away if Eddie decides he wants this, but he needs to hear it.

That’s the other problem. Eddie might actually _want_ this.

It makes him feel guilty, oddly enough. Isn’t it selfish to put that much strain on a relationship when they’re so young, just because you might _want_ to have your boyfriend’s baby? What the hell does he know at 17, wanting something as fragile and beautiful as a human being that is the fusion of two loving souls? Does that make him a fake when it comes to his gender, as society has deemed child-birthing an exclusively female thing to do? Is he stupid for thinking that he, that _they_ can handle something as difficult as having a baby and then raising it? What about all of the issues that will arise when he has to be in public with a pregnant belly and a moustache? What about having to go off hormones for several months? What about his mom?

“Eddie?” Richie says. “You got quiet. Uh, sorry about the joke. I know this isn’t a joke. You know that I know that, right?” Richie says.

Eddie likes when Richie gets serious almost as much as he likes when Richie goofs off. Which is to say, he hates it and he loves it in equal measures. Serious Richie is always the undercurrent for goofy Richie, but Eddie thinks he may be the only one of the group that realizes that, including Richie himself.

“I know,” Eddie says.

What if Eddie wants the baby but Richie doesn’t?

“Eddie, I know I’m a douchebag a lot, but at the end of the day, I want what you want. I want what makes you happy and comfortable, ok? I’m not enough of a dick to take that away from you. And whatever choice you make, I’m going to be genuinely happy. I’m not going anywhere.”

What if Eddie thinks he wants a baby and then he can’t handle it?

“Either we get to be free-loving teen assholes for a few more years or we get to have a really awesome fusion of _us_, which is super cool, even if it is sort of scary.”

Why does Eddie keep thinking it’s only going to be _him_ doing all of this?

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, man,” Richie says. He rolls onto his side and squeezes Eddie’s hand tight. “I really do.” He pauses. “Way more than my _I Love Lucy_ coin purse with the hot pin-up version of Lucy on the front.”

“You’re such a dick,” Eddie murmurs, but he’s crying? God, that’s so annoying. “I love you, too, Trashmouth.”

* * *

Eddie’s mom is the one that gives them the most trouble about the outing. No one is surprised.

“But Eddiekins!” she squeals. “You finally get a day off from school and you’re not going to spend it with your mommy?” She frowns, trying to lay on the guilt. But Eddie has bigger problems right now than facing his mom. It’s not just about _him_ anymore.

“Look mom, I already promised everyone I’d go, and they’re already outside waiting for me.” It’s seven in the morning, for goodness’ sake. This is not what he wants to be doing right now.

“But Eddie,” she insists. This is not what he wants to use an in-service day at school for.

“Mom, c’mon, please,” he begs. He’s seventeen and he still has to beg his mother to let him leave.

“I don’t like it,” she says mulishly. But he can feel her giving.

“We can watch your favorite movie tomorrow,” he tells her. “I won’t go out tomorrow night. We can just hang out, okay?”

She’s frowning, but then she says, “Call me when you get there. And when you’re coming home.” Then she goes off to get him change for a payphone and Eddie can taste the relief in his mouth, doesn’t even bother telling her that Bill has one of those new cellphones, the big clunky ones that have a huge antenna. Bill’s mom was insistent that she wasn’t having a Georgie repeat.

_I’ve fought things scarier than my mom,_ Eddie thinks to himself, but he doesn’t know what those things are, and he wonders why the thought even occurred to him. He grabs the change-purse, kisses her sweaty cheek, and jets out the front door. Richie is parked a bit down the street in his mom’s minivan. Eddie had told Richie to pick him up last because he just _knew_ his mom was going to make this hard for him. He hops into the front seat beside Richie, leans in to kiss him, and then sighs against the seats.

“That was quicker than I thought it would be,” Stan says. He’s sitting in the first row of seats with Bill, both leaning on the doors of the car with their legs tangled together on the seat between them and books in their laps. In the second row of seats, Ben and Mike are sitting side by side with their heads bent together over their GameBoys, trying to beat whatever level of Mario they’re on. The car fits eight – two up front and then three in both rows behind them. They can drive around with Beverly too.

“Yeah, let’s not plan anything tomorrow night. I promised her I’d stay in and watch her favorite movie with her,” he sighs. “Just to get out of the house. A few weeks ago she got so hurt that I hung out with you guys at the movies that I had to put off doing my homework at a sane hour to sit with her while she watched TV until she got over it, or else I’d never be able to do anything in peace.”

“Is that why you were still doing that calc assignment during homeroom?” Richie asks, his voice sharp. “What the fuck.”

“She’s just gotten worse with age,” Mike quips from the back.

“G-guys,” Bill stutters, putting his book down as Richie takes the highway entrance towards Bangor. “C-c’mon, don’t you th-think Eddie kn-knows?”

Even Ben peeks up from his GameBoy to see Eddie’s face reflected at them in the rearview mirror.

“Sorry I made us leave late,” is all Eddie says.

“It’s not you, Eds,” Richie says, taking his hand over the center console as he merges. “It’s never you. We know that. No one’s mad or anything, dingus.”

“How are you feeling, though?” Ben asks.

“I’m okay. I haven’t thrown up all week,” Eddie says. Mike and Stan cheer. Richie smiles. “But…” He trails off. “Guys, I think I’m starting to show a little bit.” They all fall silent.

“Well, we’ll check today,” Richie says.

The rest of the ride is spent fighting over the radio station. At some point, Bill and Mike both pull out mix CDs they’ve made and Richie teases them mercilessly even as he picks one at random (Mike’s) and puts in the disk. They jam along until that one’s over, then throw Bill’s in. The first song is _Africa_ by Toto and the whole car is simultaneously laughing and screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

They get into Bangor about an hour or so later, catching some of the morning commute traffic on the second leg of their journey. Eddie pulls out the directions to get to Beverly’s aunt’s house that Beverly had written out for them last weekend. It’s nice to go see her instead of her having to suffer through an hour-long bus ride just to spend two nights and three days with them all. They may not be seeing her for as long as she usually sees them, but it’s nice to reciprocate her dedication to them. Besides, they get to go into the city; that should be fun.

Business first though.

Beverly is outside on her aunt’s porch in the suburbs they pull into. She’s in overalls and a short sleeve shirt that stops at her midriff. Her hair has grown out a bit, hitting her shoulders in shiny, red waves. She waves to her aunt, who steps onto the porch and waves to their car. Beverly gets into the back of the car, throwing herself onto Stan and Bill’s legs. Stan rolls his eyes so hard all you can see are the whites. Bill stutters out a laugh.

“My aunt wants to meet you all before you leave tonight,” Beverly tells them.

“Wow, you already want us to meet your family?” Richie jokes. “This is going a bit too fast for us Bev. Maybe we should just get dinner first?” She smacks him with her shoulder bag.

“You can stay outside and eat with the dogs, then,” Beverly tells him. In the back, Mike cackles and Ben ducks his head to hide his smile. Beverly cranes her neck back to the other two while Bill and Stan adjust for her. “How’re you two losers doing back there? Beat that level yet?”

“No,” Mike groans. He’d fallen asleep halfway through the ride, his head pillowed on Ben’s lap while Ben obsessively played and replayed the same level with the same end result. “I took a nap and when I woke up, Ben was still going,” he says, still laying down.

“Boy’s got stamina,” Richie calls. Eddie snickers beside him. Ben takes a page from Stan’s book and rolls his eyes.

“Give it to me when we’re done with the appointment and I’ll show you how it’s done,” Beverly says.

“I’d like to see that,” Eddie says, turning in his seat as Richie starts following Beverly’s written directions to the Planned Parenthood. “Hey, Bev.”

“Hey, Eddie-Poo,” Beverly says, sitting forward to reach him. She kisses his cheek. “How goes it?”

“It goes,” he says with a shrug.

“Your mom give you a tough time getting out here?” she asks. All the boys fall quiet. She sighs. “Well, our appointment is at 9:15, so we have plenty of time to get there, sign in, and settle. Got it?”

“Are you all gonna come in with us?” Eddie asks. He hopes so. He really does. Beverly grins and he has his answer.

“Of course we are. Unless these boobs are too chicken,” she says to the car at large.

“No way,” Bill says, putting his book away. “Why would we be chi-chicken?”

“Yeah, I kinda want to see what his alien baby looks like,” Stan says. “Gotta support our fellow losers, right? All of us or none of us.”

“All for one, one for all?” Ben suggests.

“We’re the seven musketeers!” Richie yelps, both hands off the wheel and thrown in the air. Eddie yelps and grabs for the wheel in a panic.

“I’m not dying in a car with you six,” Eddie insists. He glares at his boyfriend. “And definitely not because of you.”

“Ouch, Eddie,” Richie quips.

They pull into the Planned Parenthood ten minutes later, with half an hour until their appointment. There’s a coffee and donut shop next door that Ben suggests they go into for something to eat beforehand. Richie and Eddie are the only ones who can’t eat, sitting in a booth and vibrating with nerves while the others pick out pastries and bring cups of coffee over.

“We got you a cup!” Mike says with a grin, placing it in front of Eddie.

“I don’t think I can drink coffee when I’m pregnant,” Eddie says, poking the Styrofoam cup. Everyone is silent, the unspoken _that only matters if you’re keeping it_ hanging in the air above them.

“You can have one cu-cup,” Bill says. He hands Richie a cup as well. “You can also have one. But just one.” He grimaces. “You don’t need any more caffeine than that.”

“Ah Bill,” Richie says, his tone halfhearted. He’s got his ankles hooked around Eddie’s under the table, seeking silent comfort. “You teaming up with my mom now?”

“We just want you to be healthy,” Bill says with a shrug, going with the joke. It’s rare that he does, so it startles a laugh out of them all. Even Eddie cracks a smile. He plays with his cup and sips at it slowly, trying to make it last the entire time they have to wait. Mike sits beside him, throwing an arm around Eddie’s shoulders as he eats a donut. “Don’t squish him, Mikey,” Bill teases, sitting across from them and next to Richie.

“Yes, dear,” Mike replies, smiling in a way that shows his half-chewed donut.

“Dude, gross,” Richie says. At the counter, Beverly, Ben, and Stan watch the goings-on.

“I’m sort of nervous?” Stan says, eating a croissant.

“Yeah, me too,” Ben admits. He hops up onto a stool, bracing his arms against the countertop. Beverly gets distracted by them – hell, most of the Losers get distracted by Ben’s arms these days. He joined the track team their first year of high school against the Head Coach’s wishes and burned off all his baby fat within the next year. Now he’s just working on his muscle and being captain of the track team. Ben’s still mousy and quiet, nerdy and shy, so he’s not really a hit with the ladies. Besides, it’s just track. But if any of them have said it (and Richie has said it _a lot_), puberty has been kind to Benjamin Hanscom.

“Don’t be, dweebs,” Beverly says, pretending she isn’t shaken up by any of this. “If this was going to happen to anyone, I’m glad it’s them.”

“Why?” Stan asks.

“Because that means it’s not me,” Beverly replies dryly. Ben tries to cover his laugh with a cough. Stan grins a bit. Beverly shrugs, eyes going a bit dark. “There was a time it could have been. And trust me, it would have been way worse than this.” They all fall silent. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Ben replies, bumping shoulders with her.

“Yeah,” Stan confirms. “We don’t _get it_ get it like we would if we were someone with uterine parts in your situation, but we get it in that we understand your reasoning on a logical, rational level if not from a level of experience.” It’s a smart, if not wise thing to say. Beverly and Ben both turn to look at him in surprise. “What?”

“I really feel like the holy wisdom of the Torah has fallen into you these past few years,” Beverly teases.

“Shut up,” Stan scoffs, blushing at the compliment. “And if we’re talking about wisdom, then the text that makes the most sense for that is the Talmud.”

“See?” Beverly says to Ben. “Wise.”

“I have to agree,” Ben says, genuine. “That was really well said, Stan.”

“Stan’s always we-well spoken,” Bill pipes up from the booth. “How much time do we have left?”

Ben looks at his watch and says, “Five minutes. Should we start walking over?” They nod and people finish their coffee, shoving the last bits of pastry in their mouths. They’re all getting up to go, but Eddie just sits there, staring at his mostly full coffee cup.

“Eddie?” Richie says. He squeezes his shoulder, wishing he could hold his hand, but he’s a bit scared to in this coffee shop full of people none of them really knows. “C’mon.”

“Right,” Eddie says, blinking rapidly and pulling himself out of his funk. “Right.” He leaves the coffee cup unfinished on the table.

The walk over is easy enough. Beverly signs in and they all sit and wait, the first appointment of the morning. When Beverly’s name is called, they all stand up. The intake nurse’s eyes widen.

“I need them all with me,” Beverly says with an innocent smile. “Any one of them could be the father.”

“Why are you like this?” Stan asks, head in his hands in embarrassment. “That’s not true,” he says to the nurse.

“We’re here for mo-moral su-support,” Bill agrees.

“I don’t know about you guys, but someone’s _definitely_ having my baby,” Richie says with a grin. Eddie’s ears go red and he presses his face to Ben’s back, hiding. Mike is bent at the waist, his sides aching with stitches from laughter.

But the nurse _does_ let them in.

“Uh, here. This is our biggest room. The nurse practitioner will be here shortly.” He practically runs away.

“So, here’s the plan,” Beverly says, still grinning from having her fun. “When the nurse practitioner comes in, we tell them it’s actually _you_ that’s here for the appointment, we just didn’t know how to schedule for a guy.” She shrugs. “I don’t want too much attention on you, especially bad attention. People are still assholes about this sort of stuff. Mix queer with teen pregnancy, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.” She winces at her wording. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Eddie says, sitting up on the medical examination table. The paper crinkles under his legs. He can’t stop kicking out his feet or jiggling his knees. Richie’s hands go to rest on them, hands warm on Eddie’s kneecaps. He presses his thumbs gently into the hollows at the sides of them.

“I’m right here,” Richie says. He never tells Eddie to calm down because he knows that’s easier said than done. He never asks Eddie if he’s okay because he knows Eddie isn’t okay. He just lets Eddie know that he’s there, physically and emotionally, ready to do what needs doing. But Richie is scared. His hands are shaking, his stomach is in knots. He wants to be here for Eddie but he needs Eddie to be here for him too. He knows Eddie is though, just by the look in his eyes. All their friends are here too, which helps. But for Richie, Eddie has always been the one to comfort him, even when he knew Eddie couldn’t do much to help the situation. Just having Eddie near has always been enough.

“We got this,” Richie says, only half believing it. And the half that he believes in is Eddie.

“Right,” Eddie says. “At least everything is clean?” Richie chuckles. At least he’s trying to look on the bright side.

“It’s a medical facility – I should hope it’s clean.” Everyone turns to look at the older woman who has walked in. She’s in her late forties, maybe, with curling, grey hair and tan skin. There’s a mole by her lips that Richie has to force himself to _stop_ _staring at._ “I’m N.P. Greta Martinez. You can call me Greta.” She looks at her clipboard and frowns. “Beverly?” she says to Eddie.

“I’m Beverly,” Beverly says, raising a hand. “But I’m not actually your patient today. He is.” She points to Eddie. He waves weakly, heart stuck in his throat. Richie holds his hand. “Can we explain?”

They explain.

“Ah,” Greta says. She’s sitting in the stool with the wheels on the bottom. “I see.” She turns to Eddie. “Well, we can do the same tests on you that we would have done on her.” She looks at the teenagers crammed in the room. “Usually this is a bit more… private.”

“Please,” Eddie says. Begs, really. “Please let them stay. They know all my business anyway and I – I don’t want to be alone.”

She raises her hands in surrender. “If this is more comfortable for you, I can work with it. However, you all need to go sit down or stand away from the exam table so I have room to work. Alright?” They move off collectively – except Richie. “Young man,” she starts.

“I’m the other baby daddy,” Richie explains, a forced grin on his face.

“Can he stay near me, at least?” Eddie says. “Contrary to popular belief, I still like him after all of this.”

“Alright,” she says on a sigh. “Eddie, I’m going to need you to answer my questions honestly. If at any time you don’t want someone in the room to hear what your answer is, just say so and I’ll get them out of here.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, a bit confused.

“Alright, Eddie. Here we go.” She goes through his sexual history which he admits just consists of Richie. Both are sure they have no kinds of STDs or STIs as they’ve only been with each other. Eddie hasn’t had his menstrual cycle in almost a year. He’s been on hormones for over a year. He’s been transitioning since he was six. They usually have protected sex but there have been times where the condom has broken or Eddie thought it wouldn’t hurt this once to go without. He thought hormones would protect him more from pregnancy than they really did. He thought he was pregnant because he kept throwing up and feeling sick, as well as having headaches and he’s paranoid. Imagine his surprise when the test had come back positive.

“Eddie have you used the bathroom in the past hour?” she asks.

“No,” he admits.

“Can you give us a urine sample? I’d also like to take some blood if that’s alright,” N.P. Greta adds. Eddie’s eyes go wide at the blood comment, but he nods and takes the sample cup. Richie watches him go into the bathroom attached to their exam room. N.P. Greta asks him to go out in the hall with her.

“Yes?” he says, once they’re outside.

“Richie, right?” He nods. “Richie, I want to make something clear, because you’re all so young.”

“What?” Richie asks.

“At the end of the day, this is Eddie’s decision,” she starts. Richie cuts her off.

“I know,” he says, not trying to be rude, but a bit irritated. “It’s his body, his decision. I know. _I know_. And I’m not going to fight him on any of it. He knows that. I’m gonna be here for every appointment if he keeps it and I’m gonna be here for _the_ appointment if he doesn’t.” He crosses his arms and frowns. “I know. And…” He looks off to the side. “Thanks for not messing up his pronouns, I guess. Even his doctor in town who’s been with him since the start still messes up sometimes and it kills him.”

When he looks back up, her face has gone soft.

“Alright,” she says. “Let’s go back in for that sample. Then I’ll go and get a kit for the blood work.”

When they reenter, Eddie is sitting on the exam table again, frowning. He looks between the two of them, but doesn’t ask any questions. Instead, he hands her his sample cup in a plastic baggie that she did _not_ give him.

“Where… did you find that?” N.P. Greta asks.

“We looked around in the cabinets,” Eddie said. “I didn’t want to just hand it off to you, even with gloves. What if I got pee on the side of it? That’s gross.”

Greta tries not to smile but fails. “Thank you, Eddie. That’s very considerate.” She dons gloves and takes the baggie. “I’ll be back for the blood sample.”

Eddie watches her go and once gone, he zeros in on Richie. “Why were you outside?”

“She wanted to make sure I wasn’t gonna force you to bear my children,” Richie says with an eyeroll.

“That was nice of her,” Stan says. He’s sitting on Ben’s lap, since there’s only three chairs in the room. Beverly is sitting in another one alone, and in the last one, Bill is sitting on Mike. They look quite comfortable.

“I really don’t want her to stick me with a needle,” Eddie admits, looking pale.

“You want me to?” Richie asks, already grinning. He knows he probably shouldn’t but even if he can get Eddie to swat at him in annoyance, he knows that’ll take Eddie’s mind off some of the stress. “You don’t seem to mind too much when _I _stick you with-”

_“Beep-beep Richie!”_ literally everyone in the room, including Eddie, yells.

“Geez,” Richie says. “You’re no fun.”

“Sometimes,” Eddie admits, “I’m sad that I’m attracted to you.”

“Harsh, Eds.”

N.P. Greta comes in soon after and takes her blood sample. She does tell Eddie his urine sample came back positive, but they always do a blood test to doublecheck. They’re all quiet once she leaves again to check that one too. No one wants to say it, but decision time is coming and the room is starting to feel oppressive. Eddie isn’t too sure how he wants to do this. Richie’s just apprehensive because he isn’t sure which way Eddie is leaning either. Not knowing something about Eddie is terrifying him.

“Richie, can you come in the bathroom with me?” Eddie asks, suddenly. The rest of the Losers look at each other and stay silent. The bathroom is on the other side of the room and has a fan they can turn on for some privacy.

“Sure,” Richie responds. Eddie grips his hand and drags him over, closing the door and locking it. He hits the light and the fan switch, waiting for the noise to start up. “Eddie,” Richie starts.

“I can’t do it,” Eddie sobs, sliding down to the floor. Richie joins him, not certain why his chest is feeling so tight. He thinks it’s because Eddie looks so lost and hurt. He wants to take that hurt away. But how? Will reassurance even work right now? “I thought it would be better but then I – I just.”

“Eddie, hey, Eddie, it’s okay,” Richie says, cupping his face. “If this is what you want, then that’s what we’re going to do, alright? Easy as pie.”

“It’s not easy as pie,” Eddie insists. “It’s not. How is raising a baby easy as pie?”

Richie feels his whole body go cold. Had he misunderstood Eddie?

“… by ‘I can’t do it’ you mean you don’t want to have an abortion?” he clarifies.

“Yeah,” Eddie sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know it’s easier. I know it is. But I want it. I want the kid. I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s because of us or that it’s yours or that it’s _ours_. I don’t know. But it feels right.” He looks up with red eyes and runny nose, his face blotchy and he begs Richie to understand. “I wasn’t sure when I came in here, I swear. I swear,” he insists. He hadn’t known. But something had just resonated in him, something that said, _keep it. You can do it. You both can do it. You won’t regret it._ “This is gonna suck,” Eddie says.

Silence. For a moment, Eddie is terrified that his fears were right. Richie can’t handle it, would rather he get rid of it. Richie doesn’t want him, doesn’t want either of them.

But Richie is just processing. He’s shocked. Eddie wants a baby. Eddie wants _Richie’s_ baby. Eddie is willing to go through the fear of childbirth and the horror their town is going to put him through just for what will eventually turn into a kid. Their kid.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Richie says in response, voice small but also full of awe. It sounds wild, crazy, but true. Eddie just said so. Richie wonders if it’s wrong that he feels happy. He thought a minute ago Eddie wanted it gone, and he was okay with that too. But he’s also okay with this. Because Eddie wants it and now Richie can allow himself to want it too. “Sorry, this is probably easier for me to be okay with than for you since you have to do all the work and stuff,” Richie says, gathering Eddie up against him. Eddie’s still crying.

“You’re okay with this?” Eddie asks, getting snot and tears all over Richie’s t-shirt.

“Yes,” Richie says. “Didn’t I say this a million times? If this is what you want, then okay. We’re gonna have a baby. We’re gonna be parents. This may be the stupidest and scariest thing we’ve ever done, but maybe it’s also the bravest? And maybe also the best.”

“I feel like we’ve done something stupider and scarier,” Eddie murmurs against Richie’s chest. Richie knows the feeling. Sometimes, he’ll be down by the Barrens and he’ll wonder why he’s so afraid. He’ll hear the rain glugging down the sewer drains on the street and his hair will stand on end. He’ll see the clowns at the town fair and want to run. Okay, he usually feels that way about the last one, but he’s not sure why he thinks the clowns are relevant right now.

“Me too,” Richie admits. “But this is definitely up there.”

“I’m gonna need you to tell me I’m not stupid, that I’m not less because of this,” Eddie says.

“You’re not stupid. You’re not less,” Richie says immediately. Eddie tries to be mad but he smiles anyway. “I’m serious. My boyfriend’s having our kid. I feel like I’m in a science fiction novel.”

“That’s weird,” Eddie says. “I thought you couldn’t read?”

“Haha, babe’s got jokes, huh?” Richie says, rolling his eyes. “C’mon. We should go back outside. They’re probably wondering if I’m alive or if you drowned me in the toilet bowl.”

“That’s disgusting. You know they don’t ever really clean under the rim, right? All the shit gets stuck in there from the spray back and-”

“Geez, Eddie, I really don’t want to know,” Richie says. He stands and hauls Eddie up after him. Then Richie pulls him close and kisses him. “Hey, doofus. We made something together. Isn’t that wild?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“Not enough to stop though,” Eddie admits.

“Then I’m not backing down either,” Richie tells him.

When they get out, N.P. Greta is there already. The rest of the Losers are trying to make small talk with her. At least Mike is getting somewhere with it.

“Ah, Mr. Kaspbrak, Mr. Tozier.” She nods to them. “The blood tests also confirmed your pregnancy. We can see how far along you are now and consider some options based on the length of time that has passed.” She looks at the others. “You may want to deliberate that in private.”

“I want to keep it,” Eddie says, stopping everyone in their tracks. Richie just rubs the back of his neck and tries not to wince.

“Oh?” N.P. Great says, looking at Richie. Eddie stands in front of him.

“This has nothing to do with what Richie wants,” Eddie starts. He turns to Richie. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Richie responds honestly.

“I want to keep them. So lets see what’s in there, okay?” Eddie says, hopping up onto the exam table. An ultrasound machine has been brought in. N.P. Greta looks like she wants to have some words with Eddie, but for now, she sets up the machine, gets his abdomen gelled, and preps the wand. “Richie, get over here. You get to see what disaster you wrought.” He cranes his head to their friends. “You guys too.”

Everyone crowds at the head of the exam table so the nurse practitioner has enough room to do what she needs to do. She starts to swirl the wand around, looking here and there. Eddie is squeezing Richie’s hand so tight that he barely feels Richie squeezing back just as hard. Beverly is hanging onto Ben and Stan while Bill and Mike clutch absentmindedly at each other. N.P. Greta hums and turns the screen to face them.

It looks like an alien. Stan had been right. Eddie’s breath is still taken away. Richie has to let go of him and run to the wastebasket to puke. Typical. But he wipes his mouth and comes back over.

“He does that,” Eddie says, not even paying Richie any mind. “Whoa. That’s more than just a bean.”

“You seem to be about 14 weeks along,” N.P. Greta says. “In the next two months we can give you a good idea about the biological sex, though I would be cautious about that. Sometimes, we can’t see too clearly with these machines.” She looks around. “Seems the fetal development is right on track. There doesn’t seem to be any visual anomalies.” She hits a few buttons. “I can print some of these for you, if you like?” Eddie nods, feeling like he has butterflies in his stomach. But no, he’s got a human person in there instead. “We’ll use the blood sample we got from you earlier to run some tests. I’ll get you a prescription for prenatal vitamins that I want you to take. You should make an appointment for next month. I’ll take care of you directly and look for an openminded obstetrician.” She clicks off the machine, but everyone is still staring, this time at Eddie’s gel-covered stomach.

“Wow,” Richie says, finally able to speak. “This is wild.”

“This is wild,” Eddie repeats in completes agreement.

“You’re sure you want to keep it?” Greta says, still eyeing the room at large.

“Positive,” Eddie insists, feeling more sure of his answer the more people question him.

“Alright. Call the office if you need to speak with me for any reason,” she says. She takes her leave. “I’ll be back with that prescription,” she says from the doorway. Then she’s gone.

“So you definitely want to keep it?” Ben asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I don’t care what anyone says. I _am_ a guy. But I also want this. I don’t know. I just do, okay?” He needs his friends to believe them. He really, really does. “Maybe it would have been better for this to happen at a different time, but it’s happening now so I’m gonna do it now.”

“Okay,” Beverly says, smoothing his hair.

“Ma-makes sense,” Bill concedes with a shrug.

“Yeah. And we’ll be here the whole time, too,” Mike says with a sunny smile. Stan nods furtively.

“Every step of the way,” Richie agrees. He kisses Eddie’s forehead, uncharacteristically soft in front of their friends. And Eddie feels so much better for it.

* * *

“Let’s tell my parents first,” Richie suggests on the way back home. It’s a little past seven. They had had dinner with Beverly and her aunt. The older woman had been so excited to meet them all and definitely approved of them. She had introduced them to her Great Dane, Biscuit, and her life-partner, Taylise.

“You should have told us your aunt was a lesbian,” Richie had heatedly told her before dinner. “I could have been holding Eddie’s hand this whole time.”

“I can tell them about you two and the baby,” Beverly had told them as they left. “I’m sure you two could stay with them if your parents all react badly. They won’t mind.”

“Could you?” Richie says. He has some faith in at least _his_ parents. “Just… just in case. I know Eddie is trying not to think about it, but.”

“Of course,” Beverly had said. And now…

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees with him. “Let’s tell your parents first.” He doesn’t even want to think about telling his mom. But he knows he needs to. He knows he does. He just has a feeling about how it’ll go down. He may never see his mother in the same light after this. She could do anything.

“Eds?” Richie says and Eddie glares. “Eddie,” he amends. Behind them, Stan is watching Ben play the GameBoy. Beverly had beat the level he was stuck on and landed him on another one that he just couldn’t best. In the back, Bill and Mike are slumped against each other, asleep. “How are you feeling about… about telling _your_ mom?”

“I’m really scared, Richie,” Eddie admits, trying to swallow around the lump of fear in his throat. “I don’t want to say anything to her, but then, I shouldn’t be having a kid if I can’t tell my own mom that _her_ kid is having a kid.” He shakes his head, striving not to cry. “I hate it. I hate that I know she’s gonna freak out. She’s gonna say awful shit. I don’t think I’ll be able to see my mom again. I didn’t want to lose her, not like this. But it feels like there’s just no other way. I can’t have our kid _and_ my mom.”

“Maybe she won’t be that awful. Maybe she’ll come around?” Richie tries. He peeks over and Eddie is frowning.

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“I’m just saying!”

“She _will_ be awful,” Eddie says, sitting back and closing his eyes. “There’s no way around it. And I’ll have to deal with people in school. I mean. What, the due date is the second week of September? I’m gonna miss the first month of school cos I pushed a baby out of my wahoo.”

“Wahoo?” Richie repeats, cackling. “That’s a new one.”

“And then we’re gonna have to figure out who’s gonna watch them…”

“Hey, my sister graduates from college this year. She said she wants to take a year off of school to figure shit out. Maybe she’ll take a night job and agree to watching the baby while we’re in school. We can coordinate our part time jobs so that one of us is always home right after school to take the baby.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, feeling a smidge better. Richie is already planning.

“I’ll ask her,” Richie says. “I have a feeling once she knows she’s gonna be an aunt, she’s gonna get really nice to me. Mostly you.”

“She’s already nice to me,” Eddie says. “Your sister loves me.”

“Yeah, I think she loves you more than me,” Richie says glumly. “I can’t blame her though, look at you. You glow, for Pete’s sake.”

“I think that’s the human growth hormones running through his veins right now,” Ben says as he maneuvers his Mario a certain way. It must win him the level because both he and Stan shout for joy. Bill startles awake for a moment, but a hand on his cheek and a soft murmur of _go back to sleep_ from Mike has him drifting back off again.

“Human growth hormones?” Richie says. “Cool.”

They get into Derry around eight o’clock and drop everyone off until it’s just Eddie and Richie. Eddie _had _called his mom when they got to Bangor, but he hadn’t called her to say they had come back. He wants to tell Richie’s parents tonight, then tell his mom tomorrow. Well, he doesn’t want to tell his mom anything, he’s terrified. But he cares more about the kid than about what his mom will do, which is saying a lot for him.

Richie pulls up outside his house and parks. He and Eddie sit in the car for a moment before Richie says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie responds. “Are _you_ ready?”

“No,” Richie says. “They’re probably gonna be mad, you know? But I think that’s just cos it was irresponsible of us. I think they’ll get over it quickly. My parents always wanted grandkids.”

They get inside and Richie’s parents are sitting on the couch, watching some sitcom or another. Just by the looks on their faces, his parents know something is up. So Richie gets them to turn off the TV and he sits with Eddie beside him on the loveseat, and he tells them. He apologizes for them being irresponsible but makes it clear that they want to keep it. Yes, they know their lives are going to change. No, that doesn’t make them want to back down. Yes, they’re going to tell Eddie’s mother. No, she will probably not handle it well.

“Beverly is going to talk to her aunt about us,” Richie ends his speech with. “If you two don’t think you can handle having us both in the house, we understand that. She’s pretty sure her aunt will take us, though. And if we have to move to Bangor and finish up school there to make this work, then that’s what we’ll do.” He squeezes Eddie’s hand for support. Up until now, Richie has done all the talking, and besides a shocked gasp from his mother and grunt from his father when they gave them the initial news, no one else in the room has said anything.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you so serious,” his father finally says.

“Well, pretty soon, we’re going to be responsible for another human so, I think it’s worth being serious about,” Richie says with a shrug. “I’m not letting Eddie do any of this on his own. He shouldn’t have to, because that’s my kid too. I know we’re young, I know this was avoidable, but here we are. We’ve made our choice. It’s time for you guys to make yours.”

“You’d really be willing to move out to Bangor to stay with him?” his mother asks, looking at Eddie. Eddie gives her a weak wave. He thinks Richie has been very grownup about the whole thing. Richie’s speech was great as well, hit all the right points, made everything clear. Eddie wishes his speech to his mother could be like that.

“In a heartbeat,” Richie says, but there’s pain in his voice. “Mom, Dad, I love you guys. I really do. But I love them too.” He looks at Eddie and smiles, watery and scared, but still strong. “If you can’t have us here, then fine. I’ll respect you because this is your home. But we’ll both be leaving. And… I’ll be honest, I don’t know how good of a relationship we’ll have after that.” Richie sighs. “We’re not asking you two to do everything for us. We just need support. We’ll need help talking to the school, we might even need help dealing with people in town. But we’re gonna raise this kid as our own. Yeah, we’ll probably appreciate tips and encouragement. We know it was a stupid move, but we’re trying to be adults about this.”

“We’re not going to just try and foist a baby on you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Eddie says, finally weighing in. “I’m sorry this is how it turned out Mrs. and Mr. Tozier. I didn’t… well, _we_ didn’t mean for it to happen. And you can think what you want about me, blame me for dragging your son down into this, too-”

“Oh, Eddie, sweetheart,” Richie’s mom says.

“Eddie, son, no. We’d never-” Richie’s dad starts.

“-but I’m glad he’s sticking with me,” Eddie finishes over them. He squeezes Richie’s hand back and smiles at him. “It’s gonna get really, really hard before it gets better. Maybe it won’t get better until we leave Derry, and who knows when that’s gonna be. We may have to put college on hold and spend more time with our jobs and do fewer fun things with our friends. But I think it’s worth it.”

“Me too,” Richie says. He smiles again, this time warm and genuine. It warms Eddie up down to his toes.

“Boys,” Richie’s dad says. “Can we have a few minutes to talk to each other about this alone?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. Richie nods and stands up, leading Eddie to his room.

“We’ll be in my room. Eddie’s gonna call his mom so she doesn’t call the police and file a missing person’s report,” Richie says.

As Richie leads him up the stairs, Eddie hears Richie’s mom sigh, “Oh god, Sonia’s going to be _awful_.”

Eddie does call his mother and tells her he’ll be home within the hour. She does sound like she had been on the verge of calling the police, so Eddie’s glad he got ahead of that. He throws himself on Richie’s bed, facedown, trying to block out all thoughts of the day and what Richie’s parents are deliberating downstairs. If they say no and Beverly’s aunt says no, who will they turn to? Maybe Bill’s parents will take them in; Bill’s mom has a soft spot for Eddie. She once confided in him that he reminds her of Georgie, of who he could have grown up to be. It had broken Eddie’s heart and he’s only ever told Richie about it. He thinks it would break Bill’s heart too and Eddie thinks Bill has had enough of that.

“You think we conceived them in your room or my room?” Richie says beside him. Eddie elbows him in the ribs when he starts to laugh. “No, seriously.”

“Maybe in your mom’s van,” Eddie throws back. “Or the bathroom of the arcade.”

“Ohhhhh, that would be awesome. You know, that’s the first place Bowers called me a faggot. That would just be _such_ an ironic place for it to happen. I knocked my boyfriend up in that arcade. I am the epitome of _faggot_.”

“That’s such an ugly word, Rich,” Eddie says, peeking up at him.

“It really is,” Richie agrees. “But I’d rather call myself that than have _him_ call me that.” Eddie could understand the sentiment.

“You think they’re gonna kick you out?” Eddie asks. He knows Richie is just talking out of his ass because he’s scared. Eddie is scared too.

“No,” Richie admits. “Honestly, I think they’re trying to plan how to help us out. Between your hellcat of a mom and our shithole town, they’ve got their hands full. So do we.”

“Richie?”

“What?”

“You spoke really well back there,” Eddie says. Now he feels like crying. Richie does too. In an instant, they find their way into each other’s arms, both sobbing. They stay that way for a long while. Richie wishes this would just get easier already. Eddie wishes it was already over. Both are sure the kid is going to be worth it, but right now, at the start, everything is just so hard.

There’s a knock on the door and Richie instinctively moves in front of Eddie as it swings open. It’s just his sister, Rachel.

“You asshole, did you seriously knock Eddie up with your demon spawn?” Rachel says, coming in and closing the door behind her. She’s home on break.

“Fuck you, Rachel, our kid’s gonna be cute,” Richie says.

“Calm down, doofus, I’m joking.” She sits in his desk chair. “You’re really keeping it?”

“He wants to, so I want to,” Richie says, scooting back onto the bed. He shrugs.

“Huh,” she says. “Well, I’ll be moving back in the summer, so if you two need help with the kid between school and work, I’m game.”

Both boys are silent. It’s one of the nicest things she’s said to either of them.

“Thanks, Rach,” Richie says, voice soft. “I… _we _appreciate it.” He grins at Eddie. “See? She’s already ten times nicer than she was this morning.”

“I’ll have you know I’m _always_ nice to Eddie,” Rachel says, crossing her arms and snapping her gum. Her hair is just as curly as Richie’s but she wears it in a pixie cut, all those red-brown curls framing her head in a halo. She doesn’t need glasses like her brother so her hazel eyes are large and wide, unhidden by bulky frames.

“I meant to me,” Richie clarified.

“Yeah, you can eat shit, Trashmouth.”

“What the fuck.”

“Okay!” Eddie cuts in. “As entertaining as you two usually are, I’m suddenly not in the mood.” He’s thinking of his own ordeal tomorrow. God. Maybe his mother will just kill him and he won’t have to worry about it.

“Sorry,” Rachel and Richie say in unison. She snaps, “Jinx!” and he flips her off.

“So mom and dad told you?” Richie asks.

“Yeah, right when I came out of the shower. And I thought_ I_ was gonna have kids first.” She shakes her head. “Never mind that, now.”

“Did they look… mad?” Eddie asks. Richie knows he’s nervous and trying not to be nervous. His reassuring hand squeezes can only go so far, though.

“Nah,” Rachel admits. “More worried. You two have a lot to worry about.”

“So they _didn’t_ look like they were gonna kick me out?” Richie clarifies.

“What?” Rachel asks, shocked herself. “No. Why would you…” She trails off, looking at Eddie who’s looking away, eyes downcast. “Fuck. Your mom.”

“No, _your_ mom,” Richie says and immediately regrets it. “Sorry, so not the time,” he says before his sister or his boyfriend can do it for him.

“And that’s your mom too, dingus,” Eddie says. But he kicks his feet and says, “Yeah. My mom. I’m gonna just tell her after school tomorrow and then pack my shit and go wherever will take me.”

“We’ll definitely take you,” Rachel says, sounding very sure. “And if I’m wrong and they don’t want to take you two, then I’ll change their minds.” Richie feels his chest go tight when he looks at his sister. It’s always been weird, having a sister almost five years older than him. Sometimes, with their ages and genders, he thinks they’ll never find common ground. At other times, like now, he sees what age has done to the both of them. They’ve reached levels of maturity that finally mix well. They can stand up for one another without being embarrassed about it, spend time with one another and enjoy it without making up excuses for it. He loves it, but he’ll never tell her that. “Let me go see what’s taking them so long. You two are shitting bricks in here and that’s just not fair.” She goes, sparing Eddie a wink. Before she shuts the door, she shoves her head back in through the crack and says, “Oh, and by the way? Congrats, you two.” Then she goes.

“Wow. I think that’s the most civil, if not downright sibling-y conversation I’ve ever had with my sister,” Richie says.

“I appreciated it,” Eddie says, just in case Richie is going to follow it up with something rude. But Richie doesn’t. He’s honestly so grateful for his sister right now that he can’t really say much else other than what’s already been said. “So we wait?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The next fifteen minutes is spent laying on their sides and playing rock-paper-scissors, thumb-wrestling, and pattycake, when they get really impatient. But there’s a knock on the door soon after and Richie’s parents are walking in after he gives the OK-GO. His dad sits on the desk chair Rachel had been on and his mom sits at the foot of the bed. She reaches out and Eddie lets her take his hands into her own. They’re very warm. Suddenly, he has the awful urge to cry. He lets a few tears trickle out because his throat hurts too much to keep them in.

“Eds,” Richie murmurs, and Eddie can’t even be annoyed.

“Does this mean you’re not kicking him out?” Eddie asks. He’s so worried for Richie too.

“We’re not kicking him out,” Richie’s dad says, voice kind. “We’re not kicking you out either. You’re welcome to stay with us if your mom doesn’t react well.”

“We have some conditions, though,” Richie’s mom says. “I don’t think they’re that bad, either. Right Tom?” Richie’s dad nods.

“Okay,” Richie says with a sigh. “Lay em on us.”

“You both need to stay in school and graduate,” his mother says first. “That’s a given. We’ll help you talk to the principal, let them know Eddie will be staying with us – if it comes to that – and make sure any school you miss this year and your senior year gets excused.”

“Fair enough,” Richie agrees. “That was the plan, wasn’t it, babe?” Eddie nods. “What else?”

“Eddie, honey, you work at the post office, right?” Eddie nods. “Good, you’re all set. We can help you talk to your boss too. Though, it’s Shelly, isn’t it?” He nods again. “She’s a sweetheart. I don’t think she’ll have too much of an issue when you need to take a little time off after the baby comes.” Eddie agrees. He just can’t speak right now. “Richie, you need to find a job. That’s our other condition.”

“I was gonna do that anyway,” Richie insists. “I really was!” he repeats when his dad scoffs. “Whatever. Anything else?”

“One more thing,” his dad says. “You two are two men who are now having a baby in a very small town. We may be in New England, but it’s not like we’re as liberal as Massachusetts, okay? Things are going to get hard. People are going to be awful.” He sits up straight and looks them both in the eye. “You need to promise to be honest with us. Tell us if you’re having problems. You may be having a child of your own, but you’re still two young men. You’re still our responsibility and we want to do right by you. What’s happened has happened and you’ve both made your choices about it. All we can do now is support you. If we don’t, who will?”

“But we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what you need,” Richie’s mom continues. “So please, please. Even if it’s questions about babies or you need help with something, Eddie. Tell us.”

“Maybe if you’d been more open with us about you being sexually active, this wouldn’t be a conversation we had to have,” his dad starts, but his mother cuts him off.

“Tom,” she says, tone warning.

“Kyla,” he responds.

“Richie!” Richie says and his parents look at him. “What, we aren’t just saying each other’s names?”

“Wouldn’t that make more sense to say my name then?” Eddie says, going along with Richie’s joke to ease the tension between Richie’s parents. Richie grins and winks at him. Richie’s parents take the hint.

“When are you planning on telling your mother?” Kyla asks.

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says, nervous again. “I’m gonna pack my stuff before school and then tell her when I get home. The nurse practitioner I saw gave me a note to stay out of school this week, but I figure I’ll only really need it to recover after I tell her. It’s…” he trails off. “It’s gonna hit me hard,” he admits. He looks up at Tom and Kyla, vision blurring with tears. “I wish she was as good about it as you two,” he says. “I – I know you guys are probably really worried and a bit disappointed, but you’re pushing past that to be there for us about this, and we really appreciate it. We do.” He wipes at his face, clutching at Richie when he hugs him from the side. “Because I know she’s not going to be like this. Not at all.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you Eddie,” Kyla says. Eddie looks away because that’s exactly what he had been thinking. “There isn’t. And just because my husband and I might not understand you and Richie 100%, that doesn’t mean we don’t love you 100%.”

“We’ve known you since you were six,” Tom says. He comes over and kneels in front of the bed, squeezing Eddie’s knee comfortingly. “We love you too, Eddie. It’s not just Richie we want to support.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, wiping his face.

“Thanks,” Richie says to his parents, right there in front of Eddie. His parents are surprised; if Richie was going to thank them, both thought he would do so after Eddie left. “Thanks so much. It – you guys are.” He can’t finish. But his father puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, and his mother holds one of his hands. “Just, thanks. You never make me worry that you won’t love me at the end of the day.”

“We may not be thrilled that this is all happening now,” his father admits. “But we are very proud that you are handling this the way you are.” He nods to Eddie. “You too.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “I think we both needed to hear that we’re not complete fuck-ups.”

“Just general fuck-ups, then,” Richie says, and chuckles when his mother swats him upside the head. “Just your mom to go, then,” Richie says, suddenly somber.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, trying not to cry all over again. “Just my mom to go.”

* * *

It’s awful. _She’s_ awful.

“Just get rid of it then!” Sonia Kaspbrak yells. Eddie’s things are in Richie’s mom’s van down the street. Richie is in the van. Eddie had been adamant that he was going to tell his mom alone, regardless of what Richie wanted. He just doesn’t think he can handle his mom doing or saying anything awful to Richie too. He’s used to the abuse, so he’ll take it.

“I don’t want to!” Eddie says, yelling right back.

“But you said you wanted to be a boy!” she yells again and Eddie feels the comment like a blow to the chest. He can’t breathe for a moment. He can’t see. He can’t hear anything but his heart beat thundering in his ears and those words swirling around and around. Their house has always been cluttered, with knickknacks and collectibles on every shelf, table, and free space. The walls have always been covered in aged advertisements and awkward family photos. He has a picture of his dad hidden away with his things in the van since his mother had hidden them all after he had died. But right now, the place is an extreme mess. His mother has been throwing things – not at him, not yet anyway – and knocking things over. The carpet is littered with broken glass from one of the lamps. Eddie stays away from it.

“I _am_ a boy,” he manages to croak out. “This doesn’t change that.”

“Who was it?” his mother says, steamrolling right over his comment. “It was that Tozier boy, wasn’t it? Did he force himself on you? And now he’s threatening you, making you keep it, isn’t he? He doesn’t care about you like Mama does, baby.”

“Leave Richie out of this!” Eddie snaps, anger knifing through him, hot and wonderful. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that! Just leave him out of this!”

“I just don’t understand why you-”

“I don’t need you to understand!” Eddie yells over her. It shuts her up for a moment. “I don’t need you to understand me, I just need you to love me and accept me. Or else…” _Or else I’ll leave. _He trails off, throat dry. He doesn’t know if he can do it.

“Or else what?” she says, mocking him. “Eddie.” He looks at the ground. “Eddie!” she screams. She’s in his face then, forcing him to look at her with her pudgy hand gripping his chin and making him look up. She smells like cheap makeup and sweat, chemical-sharp and greasy. “You get rid of it or you get out!”

“…what.” Is this really the ultimatum she’s giving him?

“I didn’t spend all that money and all those years _fixing you_ so you could be what you said you were for you to just – just embarrass me like this!” she continues.

Fix him. That’s what she thought she’d been doing all this time? _Fixing him?_ Like there’s something _wrong_ with him? Like his gender identity is a disease and not a fluke of fate?

Eddie hurts. He wants to cry but the tears just won’t come, he’s so devastated. This is beyond tears. This is beyond what he can do. There’s a distinct banging behind him, but he doesn’t know what it is, can’t process. His mother is still screaming and probably can’t hear it either, but suddenly, Richie is there.

“Eddie, let’s go!” he yells. Sonia Kaspbrak sees him and looks like she’s having a stroke. Her eyes start to twitch, her mouth screws up in an impossible direction, and one arm reaches for him like she’ll strangle him if she manages to catch him in her grasp.

“Richie?” Eddie asks. It doesn’t make sense. How did he get in?

“Let’s go!”

“You!” Sonia screeches. Richie pulls Eddie back with him out of her reach when she lunges. “You did this!”

“Yeah, fuck you too, Mrs. Kaspbrak!” Richie yells. “Don’t you ever speak to him like that again!”

“Eddie come over here right now!” she screams and Eddie is standing between his boyfriend and his mother. His boyfriend who loves him and wants whatever he wants, and his mother who… his mother who doesn’t believe him or in him, who wants to take his happiness away because that’s the only way she can be happy. His mother, who’s trying to fix something that isn’t broken.

Eddie steps away from her and stands beside Richie.

“Eddie!” she crows.

“Let’s go!” Richie says, taking his hand. He makes sure Eddie is in front of him and first out the front door. Sonia starts to throw things _at_ them as they leave. Richie gets hit on the side of the head with a snow globe they got from Augusta a few years back, but even as he shouts and bleeds, Richie keeps pushing Eddie out, down the stairs, and up the street to his mom’s van. He gets Eddie in and drives off without looking back.

Eddie is shaking. He can’t speak. He can’t stop the tremors in his hands, his arms, his whole body. He keeps reaching out to Richie, keeps saying his name, keeps grasping at him. Richie doesn’t live far, so he pulls into the driveway a few minutes later and cuts the engine. In seconds he’s out of the car and going around to Eddie’s side. He pulls open the door and pulls Eddie right into his arms, holding him close, right there, out in broad daylight. Richie is shaking too.

“Richie, Richie, Richie,” Eddie cries. He looks at Richie and takes his face in shaking hands. “You’re bleeding, fuck Richie, you’re bleeding, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Richie jokes, voice trembling. “Eddie, I’m okay. I’m okay. Did she hurt you? Did she touch you?” He strokes Eddie’s chin. “Did she grab you? You’re chin and cheeks are red. It looks like you might bruise.”

“I’m okay,” Eddie says. But then he’s sobbing so hard he retches. Richie pulls him against his chest again and tries not to hyperventilate. He can’t help Eddie. He can’t help him right now. He can’t take the pain away, he can’t make it stop. He can’t erase Sonia Kaspbrak’s words from Eddie’s mind. He’s so helpless. Richie hates it. He hates feeling like this. He’s felt like this before, at some point, at some time. He can’t remember when but he knows. He knows.

Eventually, he gets Eddie into the house. His sister is starting dinner with their dad, but Richie just waves them off and brings Eddie up to his room. They lay together for over an hour until Eddie is all cried out and just staring into space, feeling numb and exhausted.

“How did you get in,” he says, not even a question.

“Spare key,” Richie admits. “You said you left it under the mat, once. I just couldn’t leave you in there Eddie. I know you wanted to do it alone, but I just couldn’t. I’m sorry. I heard her, what she said to you.” Richie grinds his teeth. “And I’ll fucking kill her if she comes near you again. I’ll do it, Eds. She can fuck right off to hell.” He takes Eddie’s face in his hands and says, “There’s nothing broken in you. There’s nothing to fix. You’re perfect, you’re perfect, you’re perfect.”

Eddie isn’t even making eye contact. He’s just staring at the Star Wars posters on Richie’s walls, at David Bowie’s _Life On Mars_ EP on the desk, at the shirtsleeve sticking out of one of Richie’s drawers. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I love you,” Richie says, desperate and afraid. “I love you, Eddie. Hey, hey.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek and Eddie finally looks at him, eyes hollow and dead. “Eddie.”

Hours later, Kyla Tozier finds them both fast asleep, a tangle of limbs and unwashed clothes over the sheets of Richie’s bed. They both look exhausted, and she knows that for the foreseeable future, these are the types of nights they have in store for them. Her heart aches. She’s so worried. But for now, she’ll let them sleep, take that note from Eddie’s N.P. to the school tomorrow before work. It’s the least she can do for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much! This was the longest chapter in this story. I hope y'all enjoyed. This chapter took a wicked long time, but I got it out! See y'all next week on Tuesday at 5PM. 
> 
> Tell me how I'm doing with a comment or kudos, open and free to the general public. Thanks!


	3. Now Don't You Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a teenager and being pregnant is hard. It's even harder when you're a guy and it's summer time. But Eddie is managing pretty well, he thinks. He has Richie and his friends to help him navigate and that's all he really needs.

It’s June and Eddie is wearing a fucking _sweater_ to class.

Just the other day, someone had called him a fat pig, mocked him and asked how he had gained so much weight so fast. Eddie had wanted to bash a book over his head, but that would have pulled his shirt tighter over his stomach and _really_ showed people what was going on. That’s the last thing he needs.

He’s fully moved in with Richie now, all of his things hung up in Richie’s closet that he doesn’t use for much of anything. Tom, Richie’s dad, had installed a bar inside the closet so he could actually hang things up. He has space in Richie’s drawers for his underwear, socks, and pants. His shoes are thrown at the bottom of the closet. They share the bed.

He’s been going to Bangor for his appointments with N.P. Greta. It’s just been him, Richie, and Beverly the last few times. He thinks Greta has finally calmed down a bit with suspecting someone is forcing Eddie into all of this. She’s found an OBGYN that’s willing to take Eddie on, and he met with the man last week. Dr. Pope had been comforting and kind, had hugged Eddie and given him tissues when he cried, and had given him his office and home phone to use if anything was off and Eddie felt he needed to call. Richie liked the man immensely. Beverly did too.

“He’s just so kind,” Beverly had said.

“He’s kinda hot too,” Richie had admitted. “I don’t know if I’d be able to have him near _my_ bits and not be turned on the whole time.”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Eddie had said as they walked into Dr. Pope’s office. He’d had to go through a whole appointment with that on his mind.

Eddie is six months pregnant and sweating in the middle of class because he needs to keep his pregnancy as lowkey as possible. People have already been talking and he has a bad feeling he’s going to need to take a break the last few weeks of school. It’s not like he has much left to do besides a few papers anyway. He’ll talk to Kyla when he gets home.

It still hurts to think of Richie’s place as home. He’s been by his old house a few times in the last few months to grab anything left over when he knew his mother wouldn’t be home. He hasn’t seen her since that day. Her words still echo in his head when he closes his eyes. If Richie wasn’t there, Eddie thinks he’d have gone insane by now.

“Hey, hot stuff.” Eddie rolls his eyes and turns. Richie, Bill, and Stan are all coming up to the van, talking and joking with each other. Their friends have been amazing about this. They’re always over and helping him catch up on homework and classwork if he misses a day because he’s sick or has an appointment. They always make sure to crowd him so no one looks too closely. Kyla Tozier had already spoken to the principal about his special circumstances, but Eddie had only been called into the office to be told to reach out if he was being targeted. He wonders if their good attitude has anything to do with Kyla Tozier being one of the best attorneys this side of Bangor.

“Aren’t you sw-sweating in that?” Bill asks, pulling the door to the backseat open. Stan hops in.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s _very _comfortable,” Stan says with one of his signature eyerolls. “Aren’t you, Eddie?”

“Definitely,” Eddie replies, eyebrow raised. Bill frowns and shuts the door in Eddie’s face.

“Rude!” Richie yells, slamming his hand on the glass.

“Always so, sarca-castic,” Bill complains about them all.

“Where’s Ben and Mike?” Eddie asks, getting into the van.

“Ben’s at track and Mike is covering the meet later this afternoon for the school paper, so it’s just us four,” Richie responds. He closes Eddie’s door, then goes around to get in himself. Five minutes later, they’re pulling up outside Richie’s house.

The Losers have also been coming by to help with the nursery. For now, Richie and Eddie are transforming a corner of Richie’s room into the baby’s side. As a gift, Richie’s parents had bought them a crib. The other Losers had been pitching in for linens, clothes, bottles, and the likes. Eddie hadn’t really seen the point in a baby shower since he was a teen father, but Beverly’s aunt and her girlfriend were insistent that they do _something _for him, even if it was small, so next month, they’re throwing him a small bash.

“You think it’s gonna be a boy or a girl?” Stan asks as they go in and up to Richie and Eddie’s room.

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits. “Some people have weird dreams and stuff, but I haven’t. I just hope they’re healthy.”

It’s not entirely true. He’s had exactly one strange dream and when he had told Richie about it, they’d both lain in terrified silence for the rest of the night. It had been dark in his dream and the only thing that Eddie could see in the darkness was a red balloon. It just bobbed before him. In the background, he can remember hearing a steady drip, drip, drip, and rushing water by his feet. Looking down had revealed shining eyes behind a grate in the ground and Eddie had awoken in a cold sweat, one hand on his growing stomach.

Richie doesn’t know what it means either.

“What do you want them to be?” Bill asks, sitting on their bed.

“Hmmm,” Eddie thinks. But he knows. He wants a boy. He doesn’t know what he’d do with a girl or how he’d react. Maybe badly. Maybe he’d just be glad the baby was healthy and whole. But he’s feeling traumatized and ill equipped to deal with a daughter. So he hopes and prays and keeps it to himself because he does feel guilty about it. “I don’t really care,” he lies. “As long as they’re healthy.”

“You still craving Butterfingers?” Richie asks, rooting around in his backpack. Eddie’s head snaps over to him.

“Yes, why?” he asks, rushing over. Richie throws him two full-sized bars. “Oh, you sweet bastard.”

“Don’t say I never gave you anything,” Richie teases.

“I wouldn’t,” Eddie says, devouring one of the bars. Around the mess in his mouth, he continues, “You gave me this, remember?” He points to his swollen stomach. “Hard to forget.” Stan and Bill dissolve into laughter as Richie grumbles and walks over. He drops to his knees and presses the side of his face to Eddie’s stomach. “Rich,” Eddie complains.

“Hey, baby,” Richie continues, heedless of Eddie’s response. “How you doing in there? You like it? You comfy in your daddy?” Richie presses his hands flat on both sides of Eddie’s belly. “Wanna move for papa? Or are you already not listening to me?” Eddie feels the swish of movement – that sometimes still freaks him out – and Richie calls Stan and Bill over to feel. “Can they?” Richie asks. Eddie nods and waves his friends over. He appreciates that Richie and the others ask before they touch him. The first month that he could feel their kid moving in him, he’d needed to be left alone to process.

It’s a lot. He never thought he’d be doing this and now he’s doing it and trying not to question himself and who he knows he is. He tries to forget his mother’s words, or at least not let them get to him, but it’s so, so hard when she’d been so, so cruel. But Richie and the others remind him, every single day, just who he is. He’s Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier’s friend and boyfriend, _their _friend and member of the Losers Club.

“That’s really cool,” Stan admits, his hand pressed to Eddie’s side. “Does it feel weird from your end?”

“A bit,” Eddie admits. “I don’t really like it when they moved under my ribs, but I can’t really stop them.” Stan makes a face, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Too much?”

“Just a little bit more than a lot,” Stan mumbles. He drops his hand. “Okay, I’m finishing my last English paper for the year. Have fun with the body horror.”

“Awh, Stanley,” Richie crows after him. “You don’t like feeling my baby crawling around inside my boyfriend? They just wanna say hi!”

“You’re gr-gross,” Bill says, moving away as well. “I’m gonna start my history final.”

“You’re even grossing me out, babe,” Eddie admits, shoving Richie away. “Stop touching me.”

“Awh, Eds!”

And so it goes. The next day, Richie’s mom has his doctor call the school and gets Eddie excused from the last week and a half. It means Eddie can work on his finals in peace and wear one of Tom Tozier’s t-shirts instead of sweating it out in a big sweater that doesn’t hide his condition nearly as well as he wishes it did.

School ends, he passes, and officially, they’re all going into their last year of high school. He tries not to listen too hard when the others start taking about college, where they want to go and what they want to study. But Eddie loves his friends too much and he cares about their interests. So he and Richie listen and smile, but keep their plans to themselves.

“You wanna go to school, Eddie?” Richie asks one night. Eddie stays quiet. “Yeah, you wanna go to school.”

“It’s gonna have to wait, doofus,” Eddie says, embarrassed at the tears in his eyes. Richie wipes them away without comment.

“But you’re gonna go,” Richie says, voice stern for once. “You’re gonna go. Once we’ve got a handle on this parenting thing-”

“I don’t think anyone gets a handle on that,” Eddie cuts him off with.

“You’re going!” Richie says. “I don’t care where you wanna go. You’ll apply, you’ll get in, and me and the squirt will follow, got it? It’s gonna be great. So what we’re a little behind? That’s okay!”

“What about you?” Eddie says, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“You know I’m just the funny man,” Richie says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Nah, actually, I was thinking of maybe getting into radio. Not really a degree worthy thing, not yet anyway. I can start small here at our local station, get experience, get more wherever you go for school, you know?”

“Yeah? What kind of music you gonna play?” Eddie teases.

“I was thinking more like… a talk show?” Richie says, sounding unsure for once. “Like. Comedy hour. We could use some genuine laughs in Derry.”

“That’s…” Actually, that’s a good idea, to Eddie anyway. “Hey.” He turns Richie’s face to him because he can tell that Richie is getting self-conscious. And Richie _is_. If Eddie laughs at him, then he’s got nothing. Because if Eddie can’t believe in him going after his dream, then Richie won’t find it in himself to pursue it. “That sounds really cool. And like you’d be awesome at it.” Eddie smiles. Richie feels like his heart is going to burst.

“You absolute asshole,” Richie says, hugging him tight.

“How am I an asshole for supporting you?” Eddie grumbles.

But, it’s what they tell their friends when Ben realizes that Richie and Eddie aren’t working on applications with the rest of them in the sweltering July heat.

“Um.” He shares a worried look with Bill as he puts down his track scholarship application. “What, uh, what are your plans, guys?”

Richie and Eddie share a look. Eddie shrugs and Richie continues rubbing Eddie’s swollen ankles, thrown in his lap and expecting to be soothed.

“Gotta wait for all that edumacation,” Richie jokes, only a _little_ disappointed. “And that’s mostly Eddie’s schtick.” Richie grins now, real and bright. “I got a job at the radio station this week!”

“That’s awesome!” Mike bursts. “What are you gonna do?”

“Well, right now, I’m just assisting with music picks, organizing, and cleaning up at the end of the day. But the station manager said that if my music picks get popular, I can start assisting with whatever show will take me. Maybe in a year or two, I can get my _own_ show.” He’s smiling so hard his face hurts. He turns to Eddie and sees the same smile on his face.

“That’s actually pretty cool, Trashmouth,” Beverly says, grinning herself. She’s sitting by Ben, holding his hand under Richie’s kitchen table like the rest of them can’t see or something. “How’d you land that?”

“They really needed someone to help them organize their rooms of tapes, CDs, and records,” Richie admitted. “I mean, they even showed me the room first like _you can run if you need to with no consequences_.” He shrugs. “It’s cool and I need a job anyway.”

“Wow,” Stan says. “Okay, I can see that.” He turns to Eddie. “What about you, Eddie?”

“Gonna wait on school a bit,” Eddie says, shrugging. “Yeah, I’ll get a late start, but, I’ll get there. I just need this kid to be a little older, that’s all.” He looks at Richie, then back to their friends. “But I _am _going. For business and econ, I think.”

“That’s awesome,” Bill says with a smile. He’s tapping his pencil against his lower lip. “I was th-thinking I could go for English. I like writing.”

“Architecture,” Ben says with a nod.

“I dunno, but I definitely know I’m not being a rabbi,” Stan interjects with a huff. “Got enough of _those_ in the family.” The rest of them laugh. “You guys,” Stan says. They look over at him. “We’re all going to different schools, aren’t we?”

The discomfort in the room is palpable, so thick Richie is sure that if he got up and tried to walk through it, it’d be like pushing against a strong, north wind. No one makes eye contact now that Stan’s addressed the elephant in the room. Most of them have been avoiding thinking about it.

“Well, so what?” Bill pipes up, finally. They all look to him, their unofficial leader even though they’re all growing and should be past needing one. “We did fine with Beverly not living here, right?”

“The man’s right,” Mike says, always the first one to support him.

“Then we can do it again!” Bill insists. They all do wonder if he notices how much he _doesn’t_ stutter when he makes little speeches like this. “And we’ll make this the best year _ever_.” He looks at Richie and Eddie. “And we’ll all come home every break to visit you three.”

“Awh, Bill,” Richie says, trying to joke but it comes out sounding far more genuine than he’d planned.

“Thanks, Bill,” Eddie says, a smile finally coming onto his face. Bill clasps Mike’s shoulder, who clasps Stan’s, who clasps Richie’s, who clasps Eddie’s, who clasps Ben’s, who has to let go of Beverly’s hand with a complete lack of subtlety to clasp hers. Stan rolls his eyes at this and goes back to his paperwork, letting go of Richie.

“You two aren’t fooling anyone,” he says to his application.

“It’s funny that they think they can though,” Richie says, ignoring Ben’s and Beverly’s dual squawks of indignation at being spoken about like they aren’t right there. Richie chuckles and bumps his shoulder with Stan’s, grinning when Stan does.

And so it goes.

* * *

The little bash Beverly’s aunts put on for them is sweet.

The Losers are there with Richie’s sister Rachel, as are Richie’s and Bill’s parents, Mike’s grandfather, and Stanley’s dad – which was a surprise in itself. But he had insisted on coming, no matter how he felt about the whole thing, and he had been very respectful of them as well.

Richie and Eddie have been talking, though. Neither of them is religious enough to really have ceremonies or sacraments for the kid. That doesn’t mean they can’t have godparents. And they have just the people, too. Might as well announce things when their families are all gathered.

When they’d told Rachel that Eddie wanted to pick the godmother, she had shrugged, unoffended.

“I’m already going to be the kid’s aunt – let other people get in on the action so all the help doesn’t just fall on me,” she’d said with a grin.

So, they announce their picks, after everyone has made them open countless gifts in front of them, and they’ve eaten enough cake that Richie is starting to feel like how he suspects Eddie feels every day.

“We have some announcements to make,” Richie says, helping Eddie sit back down from a picture with Rachel. They’re all gathered in Beverly’s aunt’s backyard, under a little awning made of grape vines that are becoming heavy with purple grapes. Eddie and Richie are seated in the middle of the stone-tiled seating area before a table while everyone else has pulled up mismatched chairs to sit around them. Richie makes sure Eddie is comfortable – because Eddie will always be his priority – and then sits back down beside him. “You ready?” he says, voice soft.

“Yeah, let’s just tell them,” Eddie says, not actually nervous. He’d been embarrassed the first two hours of this shindig, hating all that attention on him. But once he thought about it and decided they were all just paying attention to the _baby_ and he just _happened_ to be the vessel for the baby right now, he had felt a lot better. At this point, he’s ready to tell them and go take a long nap with Richie curled up behind him.

“T-tell us what?” Bill asks, his mother smoothing back a stray lock of hair that had been sticking up at the back of his head.

“We picked godparents for the kid,” Richie says with a shrug. “I picked the godfather and Eddie picked the godmother.” Their little crowd is silent, maybe a bit surprised. “But don’t think that gets the rest of you Losers out of helping us. This is a community baby.”

“Our baby is _not_ a community baby, dumbass,” Eddie says with an eyeroll. “Beverly, you wanna be our baby’s godmother?” he says, just going for it. He’s so tired, he knows he’s getting cranky, and he wants this to be over.

But then, Beverly’s eyes go so wide and she squeezes Ben’s hand so hard that the face he’s making says it _definitely_ hurts. And Eddie feels his heart get tight. Their kid starts to pound his insides, either irritated that he’s not moving around enough or that his emotions just spiked pretty high. Beverly nods her assent and can’t really say anything. Her aunts both grin widely and congratulate her. Rachel looks relieved.

“I mean, who else would you choose?” she says. “Realistically. But I’m relieved anyway. Bev is reliable.”

“Thank you,” Beverly chokes out, whether to Richie or his sister is unclear.

“And Stan,” Richie says. Stan gapes at him. “Stan the Man. Help your brothers out here. Godfather? _Godfather?”_

“You want _me?”_ Stan says. But beside him Mike and Bill are nodding like that makes all the sense in the world.

“Stan is responsible,” Mike says.

“Stan is _wise_,” Bill corrects. “I think we’re all fa-fairly responsible, but Stan is good with guidance.”

For some reason, Stan’s dad looks flattered too, but Richie thinks it might be because it’s a responsible role and thing to do, getting your kid a pair of godparents. Eddie hopes Stan’s dad has a slightly better opinion of them.

Later, when they’re back home and all the baby’s things have been put aside in the nursery corner, Richie and Eddie lay beside each other, just talking. School will be starting in another month, but Eddie isn’t slated to go back until the middle of October. Until then, he’ll be doing his classwork at home when Richie brought it in for him, and Stan and Bill will be tutoring him through the lessons he’ll miss. Beverly and Ben are officially dating and going to prom with each other in the spring. By December, everyone else will have their applications mailed into the schools of their choice. Then they wait.

By December, their child will be three months old. It’s wild to think about.

“We haven’t even talked about names,” says Richie, moving a sweaty lock of hair out of Eddie’s face. The A/C is on, but at seven months pregnant, Eddie just has too much body weight to feel cooler. He has since switched sides of the bed with Richie to be directly in line with the cold air, so Richie knows it’s helping as much as it can.

“We’re not naming the kid after you if they’re a boy,” Eddie immediately says. “Or me, for that matter,” he adds.

“You wound me,” Richie jokes. “I was _definitely_ not going to suggest that.”

“I kinda like the letter M,” Eddie says around a yawn.

“That’s it? A letter?” Richie asks. “The fuck am I supposed to do with a letter?”

“Suggest names, dumbass,” Eddie tells him, eyes closed. Richie pokes him in the face and Eddie swats at him without opening his eyes.

“Are you just gonna fall asleep on me?” Richie asks.

“Dunno. Depends on how interesting your names are,” Eddie concedes.

Richie lists names, traditionally male and female, for the next hour. He throws a few in that he thinks could be gender neutral (“Malory can be spelled with one or two ‘l’s and so _that_ means Mallory can be for a boy or girl or whoever.”) Then, he runs out of names. Eddie’s breathing has evened out and Richie sighs, putting his hand on the bulge between them.

“I think you’re gonna be nameless until you grace us with your presence, kiddo,” Richie says, but he’s smiling. Parenthood is still scary as all hell, but he has a corkboard on their bedroom wall full of ultrasound scans that make it feel special as well. That’s their love, in physical form. Because, to be honest, he’s never just _fucked_ Eddie Kaspbrak. He’s always thought of it as making love, which is cheesy as all hell, but he’d also told that to Eddie once and then Eddie had jumped his bones and made him say it while they were doing it. He thinks they both might have cried? Whatever. That had been one of the few times Eddie had actually been up to having sex while he was pregnant.

“Mmm,” Eddie mumbles, rolling closer to him. He presses his face into Richie’s chest and Richie swallows around the lump in his throat. He thinks to himself, _I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this idiot, if it’s the last thing I do_, and caresses the side of Eddie’s face. “Macaulay,” Eddie mutters.

“Pardon senor?” Richie says.

“I liked Macaulay,” Eddie says, eyes closed, breath soft. “We can call him Mickey for short.”

Now see, Richie had _thought_ he knew when Eddie had stopped listing, so he’d started naming random names and he’s 90% sure he had said _Macaulay Culkin_ to mess around. But now that Eddie’s said it like that, in that sleepy voice, with a nickname all lined up, it’s all Richie can see. A little boy with Eddie’s big eyes and maybe Richie’s hair and ears, and Eddie is cooing _Mickey_ down at the swaddled bundle in his arms. Richie closes his eyes because crying just because your boyfriend said a baby name that you both actually like in a way that makes you want to have a million babies with him is _not cool_. And Richie Tozier, despite being a teen dad, is cool as hell.

“Okay,” Richie says. “Macaulay/Mickey it is for a boy. Anything for a girl?”

“Maybe, Mirabelle,” Eddie mutters. “Gotta think about it more.”

“Don’t know how I feel about Mirabelle, but I’ll take it for now,” Richie chuckles. Eddie’s already dropped back to sleep so Richie presses a kiss to the side of his mouth and whispers goodnight.

* * *

They know it’s not supposed to be easy. But sometimes, they forget how bad it can get and ignore the looks people give them.

Eddie pretends it’s not annoying that he has to do everything in the later hours of the day so that it’s a little darker and people don’t stare as much, don’t try and figure out what all the weight up front is supposed to be. He’s sure some people assume, sure that some of them don’t even want to waste their time with him. Some don’t – sometimes, it takes a while for someone to check him out at the grocery store, or the pharmacy. Sometimes, people walk on the other side of the street to avoid him. At work, he sorts mail and does things behind the counter now, because the counter goes up to his armpits and no one can see below it. He pretends that the comments that his face is rounding out and he’s gained weird weight don’t hurt or aren’t annoying. His boss is nice, but she’s not who he deals with all day.

Richie works now, which is weird, but they come home to each other. When school starts, their hours will switch a bit. Eddie won’t work for a while, not while he’s getting used to being a dad. Richie brings home CDs that the station is getting rid of, ones he thinks Eddie might like. They lie in bed and listen to them and try to nail a name for a girl. Eddie finally tells Richie his reservations about that and Richie tells him that regardless, Eddie will be great. It’s a relief to hear someone else say it.

Sometimes, Eddie thinks he may want to have sex, but then he remembers that’s what got him here in the first place and he feels a little repulsed. He’s also not super horny, to be honest. At eight months, he wants to hit things and then rip the kid out of him, but he knows he’s so close. He could be bigger, Dr. Pope says. The baby isn’t as heavy as it could be, but that may just be because Eddie is so young. He knows – 17 isn’t that old. He feels so round and so young and sometimes, so lost. Until Richie comes home from work and grins at him, until the other Losers come over for diner or movie night or to rearrange something or the other in the nursery corner.

On days he can’t get out of his own head, Eddie asks, “Richie am I ugly?”

“What?” Richie says, looking up from a catalogue of the new music they just got in at the station.

“Was this a mistake?” Eddie continues, sitting in the middle of the bed. It’s one in the morning, Eddie can’t sleep, so Richie can’t sleep. And Eddie is afraid.

_“What?”_ Richie says, putting the catalogue to the side. “No one said this was a mistake.”

“Yeah but-”

“And if I thought this was a mistake, I would have said so, okay?” Richie says, sitting next to him. “Okay?”

Eddie swallows around a large lump in his throat and nods. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, dummy. Just…” Richie rubs the back of his neck. “Dunno, Eddie. Just talk to me, okay? You know how much I love to talk. That’s the one thing I _can_ do in all of this. So, let me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says and he smiles. Richie rambles on until three in the morning and they both drift off into sleep, their alarms going off around eight o’clock so they can make it to work by nine.

It’s hard. It’s annoying. The bigger Eddie gets, the less he feels he can do. He feels so full and so clumsy most of the time. He wants to see his baby and at the same time, he’s terrified of pushing a living, breathing human being out of his most intimate parts. But the baby went in that way, so he supposes it makes sense that they come out that way too.

Still, he wishes the others would just let him _do_ stuff on his own.

“I can take your plate to the kitchen,” Mike says and does it without letting Eddie argue that he can do it himself.

“Don’t worry about helping wash the dishes, we can do that,” Stan says, tugging Bill with him.

“Do you want lemonade or something?” Beverly asks going to the fridge to grab herself some more. “I’m getting up anyway.”

“Uh, guys,” Ben says, watching the look on Eddie’s face as he gets more and more irritated. Richie is at work, having to stay a little later. They were actually letting him sit in on one of the shows and _paying_ him for it. He had been so excited, Eddie hadn’t had the heart to tell him he really wanted him home for dinner. It makes him feel like a housewife and he hates it. Having the losers here is good, but right now he could smack all of them. “Maybe we should just let him-”

“Could you all stop it?” Eddie snaps and everyone in the kitchen stills and shares startled looks. “Just – could you stop? I’m not an invalid, ok? I can – can _do_ things, alright? Look, I can even stand alone!” Eddie yells. Except when he goes to stand, he suddenly feels so heavy and _big_. He struggles a bit, and when Ben sticks out a hand to help him up, Eddie smacks it away in irritation. “Give me a _second!” _he snaps.

“Uh why is no one helping my _clearly_ struggling baby daddy?” Richie asks as he comes in, finally free of his duties. Eddie takes on look at him and bursts out into tears. Richie stands there in shock, the rest of the Losers looking a bit ashamed, but also like they have no idea what they’re supposed to do right now. Richie finally snaps out of it and goes to him. He kneels in front of Eddie and takes his face in hand, wiping his tears away. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs. “What’s up with this, Spaghetti?”

“D-don’t call m-me that!” Eddie weeps, pressing his teary face to Richie’s neck. He holds onto him, supremely embarrassed that he’s losing his shit in front of everyone after wanting to prove to them he could do things alone and be fine.

“Okay, okay,” Richie soothes. “Anyone _else_ wanna explain?”

“It’s not their faults,” Eddie mumbles, calming down. “I just – I want to be able to do shit alone, you know? This is crazy! This is annoying! But I can’t. And they’re just trying to help.” He pulls away and rubs at his face. “Except Ben. Ben was trying to be respectful of my space.”

“Sorry, Eddie,” Beverly says, coming over to hug him. He hugs her waist and presses his face to her side. Ben wraps an arm around her from where he’s sitting. Bill and Stan hug Eddie from behind, Mike squeezing himself next to Richie and dragging him into the hug.

“Group love!” Mike yells.

Five minutes later, Rachel walks in and finds them all in the same position, causally having a conversation about how many boxes of diapers Richie and Eddie have stockpiled along with bets on how long they think they’ll actually last. She grins. She may not understand her brother, his boyfriend, and their friends, but she can’t deny that they all have a deep-rooted love for each other. Sometimes, it reminds her of the groups of veterans she used to volunteer with in college, the ones who went into and came out of battle together. It’s odd; they’re a bunch of teenagers, at the end of their prime teen time. She can’t fathom what could have happened between the seven of them that they all act this way. Maybe it’s just the baby.

Maybe it’s something else.

“Okay Losers,” she announces. “Just cos our parents are having date night doesn’t mean we all are. Break up the love fest and someone grab me whatever leftovers you have left.”

It breaks them up with laughter and Bill grabs her a plate of food with a grin and only a little bit of stuttering. To the side, Richie is still kneeling by Eddie’s chair, only this time, he has his hand on Eddie’s protruding belly, his head against Eddie’s chest. Both of them have their eyes closed, focusing on the movement of their baby inside of Eddie’s belly. They’re handling it remarkably well, Rachel thinks, and just the sight of them connecting like this is making her want to cry. She’s heard some awful things about them in town, let her mom know about a group of high school seniors who had been threatening to do something to them the other week. Her mother had nipped that in the butt with a threat of legislation to the boys’ parents. As long as it keeps her boys safe and they don’t have to see too much of the ugly, Rachel doesn’t care what her mother has to pull.

Richie and Eddie are worth it.


	4. Alright, Already - We'll All Float On, OK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the summer ends and a new life begins. And from the annals of their history comes the shadow of the Losers' shared nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this the end of part one of the series Good News is On The Way. There is violence in this, but I think it's cannon-typical? Also, I hope the hints and stuff that I've been dropping about Pennywise being around in spirit if not in body makes sense for the end of this. Hopefully part two marries well with this, so to speak.

Eddie forgets something in the van.

“Shit,” he says, rubbing his back. Their kid is trampling his insides. It’s less freaky and more annoying now. What the fuck is this kid’s issue? Is he that much like Richie already, unable to stop moving or squirming or making Eddie’s life miserable?

“What’s up hotcakes?” Richie says, working on a playlist for the station. Maybe this time, he thinks, they’ll actually pick it. He’s been getting compliments on his lineups.

“I forgot my checklist in the car,” Eddie says. He gets up, but then, so does Richie. “Excuse me.”

“I can go get-”

“Don’t you start!” Eddie says, making an X with his arms and then sweeping his arms out to either side. “No way, we discussed this. When I need help, I’ll ask for it!” The problem is, he’s pretty much nine months pregnant. His due date is supposed to be in another two weeks, but Eddie wants this baby out _now_. He feels about ready to burst. It’s awful.

“But…”

“But what!”

“It’s dark,” Richie finishes lamely. Eddie feels the muscle in his temple twitch making his eyebrow pull up and to the side in irritation. “Fine!” Richie allows. “Just… I’ll watch from the window then.”

“Lame,” Eddie calls as he leaves their room. He does feel too big. God, it’s awful. He’s practically waddling around now. He’s left work for the next two weeks. His ankles had swelled last week to twice their size. They haven’t done that since his fifth month. He’d been enjoying his normal ankles these past four months. This is just ridiculous.

The house is quiet as he tiptoes through it and into the street, the minivan keys in hand. He just needs to get his checklist from the van so that he can get through it and be set to go when he eventually goes back to school and work. He needs _something _to focus on for the next two weeks or he’ll go mad. At least the weather is starting to cool. It’s just starting the second week of September, the edge taken off the heat. What a blessing.

Eddie’s not paying much attention. He shouldn’t have to, really. They live in a quiet neighborhood. Sometimes, he thinks of his old neighborhood, how he hasn’t seen his mom in town or at all, for that matter, in months. He thinks of how she would have loved this neighborhood if they had lived here too. He tries not to think of her, because then he thinks of all the shitty things she had said. But sometimes, like now, he gets distracted by it and loses track of himself.

Which means he’s not paying attention to the car. And the driver isn’t paying attention to him.

What gets his attention, instead, is the bright, red balloon in the middle of the road, just floating there. He doesn’t see the car’s headlight or hear the drone of the engine. He just sees the balloon, like something out of his darkest dreams that he’s sure had stopped a month or two back. But there’s the balloon.

And there’s the crush of hard metal slamming into his side and projecting him into the air, crashing him into the street, skidding him across the tarmac to come to a harsh stop with his head by a street drain.

It hurts. Obviously. Eddie can’t seem to get his mind to process anything other than pain. He tries to move, but his front hurts too much. His front. His _baby_.

Eddie starts to scream but he’s not saying much, just clawing at his belly which is _bleeding_. Everything feels wrong and mangled and someone is speaking, yelling too.

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_,” the driver says, a middle aged man in a suit. He must have been coming in late from work. “Oh god, oh god!” He’s yelling for help. There’s someone else coming, sirens in the distance. Richie had been watching. Oh god, had Richie _seen?_ Had Richie seen him get mowed down by a fucking car, the spray of blood, the horror? “I thought I saw a clown in the road,” the driver continues.

The concession gives Eddie the creeps, makes him sick to his stomach, though that could be the fact that he’s bleeding onto the street and his baby could be dead. Richie slides across the cement and by his head, too scared to touch him, but too devastated not to do anything. He ends up just cradling Eddie’s head in his lap, crying over him. But the driver, he keeps blubbering about a clown. A clown with a red balloon. At the corner of his eye, Eddie fancies he can see It too. Old fashioned costume, melting makeup, sad and angry expression on Its face, waiting for them to get closer, so Its mouth can open and swallow them whole.

Eddie wildly veers his eyes around looking for Richie and instead, his eyes land on the sewer opening he’s landed next to. His eyes go wide and for a moment, he forgets his pain, the fear for their child. He starts chanting Richie’s name, trying to get the word out of his mouth, to roll off his heavy tongue. He needs Richie to see what he sees, but he doesn’t know how to say it. So he grabs Richie’s arm with his blood slick hands and points to the sewer opening.

“Oh god, Eds _wha-”_ Richie trails off. He sees it then. He sees them.

A set of shining, golden eyes in the darkness of the sewer opening. Just like in Eddie’s dream.

“Richie,” he whimpers as the red and blue lights fill his vision and he can’t see gold any more.

“Holy fuck, Eddie,” Richie blurts, shaking hands gripping Eddie’s arms.

But then the EMTs are there and they’re taking Eddie away.

* * *

Eddie’s been in surgery in the Bangor hospital for twenty minutes when Beverly shows up in a pair of overlarge flannel sleeping pants and a hoodie. She’s gaunt and shaky, but she takes Richie’s blood-stained hands in hers and holds onto them until the rest of the Losers show up. Richie had called them the second he’d gotten to the hospital, but Rachel had already called them all and they were making their way to each other and then to Richie and Eddie.

“Wha-what the fuck happened?” Bill snaps when they all sit together on the plastic chairs in the waiting room.

“It’s like Eddie didn’t see the car and the driver didn’t see him!” Richie snaps. “It makes no sense. I _saw_ it happen. He just _stood _there, like he didn’t know the car was about to hit him. The car didn’t even hesitate, he just kept _going_.” Richie has his hands fisted in his hair now. Ben is sitting with Beverly who can’t stop shaking. “And the driver, he didn’t make any _sense_.”

“What do you mean?” Stan asks, hand coming to rest gently on Richie’s shoulder.

Richie looks up, manic. “He said he saw a fucking _clown_ in the street, like. What the fuck? Eddie’s not _that_ big,” he says, the joke falling flat because he’s so, so afraid. Their baby. His Eddie. What the hell? Richie’s family, his own little family. Are they gone? No one has come out yet. No one has given him an update. He’s so damn scared.

“… a clown,” Bill says, blinking rapidly.

“What…” Mike starts. He can’t finish. An atmosphere of unease falls on them all, something nudging at the back of their memories.

“It’s so fucked up!” Richie yells. There’s an officer still hanging around that had taken Richie’s statement since he’d seen everything. Richie had thought it unnecessary because their driver hadn’t even run, he’d just waited and cried to the police to take him away. The officer eyes the six of them warily, keeping an eye should anything get out of hand.

“What is?” Ben asks, a hand in Richie’s hair, attempting to soothe him. Richie shakes him off.

“There was something in the sewer,” Richie says, throwing his arms in the air. “There was something fucking in the god damn sewer with glowy eyes and – and who the fuck knows what else!”

“In the sewer?” Bill says. There’s something dark and hard in his eyes. “Something or someone?”

“I don’t know!” Richie yells, getting in Bill’s face. “Why the _fuck_ are you asking for semantics when my _boyfriend and baby_ could be _dead_ because of this?!” Richie paces. “I don’t fucking know what the fuck it was, ok?” Richie yells. “I don’t know what It was!”

They all go quiet, even Richie. Deep in the hospital, on an operating table while his child is being pulled from him, Eddie Kaspbrak gets a shiver down his spine through all the anesthesia that baffles his surgeon.

“It,” Bill says. “You said It.”

“Yeah, I…” Richie trails off. There’s an ugly memory bursting on the scene of his mind. Everyone else seems to be experiencing it.

“No, no we _killed_ It,” Stan says out of nowhere.

“It’s gone,” Beverly insists. “I know It is. It has to be.”

“We got rid of It,” Mike says, trailing off.

“Then how the fuck… _what _the fuck was It doing there?” Richie yelps. “What the fuck…”

And then, in an instant…

“What the _fuck_ were we just talking about?” Richie asks, rubbing his eyes. There’s a gap in his memory, one he had just breached, but when he looks back on it, all he sees is a dark cavern.

“I… don’t know,” Bill says, looking at the palm of his hand strangely. “Guys, wh-what’s this?” Mike takes Bill’s hand in his to see what he’s even talking about, when a doctor comes out of some side doors and calls Richie’s name.

“Richard Tozier?” she says.

Richie leaves the mystery for another day and runs to her. “That’s me! What’s going on? Is Eddie okay? My mom is going to be here soon, she’s Eddie’s guardian right now. What’s going on with him?” The doctor tries to placate him for a moment, but then Dr. Pope walks out and Richie is on him next. “Doc, what’s up, is he okay?”

“Eddie is still in surgery,” Dr. Pope says. Richie can’t stop the tears that are coming down his face. “But,” Dr. Pope continues, “your son, on the other hand, is waiting to meet you in the nursery.”

All the Losers are silent. And then:

“It’s a boy!” Mike.

“Congrats, Richie.” Ben.

“Our godbaby!” Beverly.

“God_son_.” Stan.

“Wow.” Bill. No stutter included.

“Holy shit,” Richie says and follows the first doctor while Dr. Pope disappears back into the OR. The rest of the Losers follow tentatively behind. Richie can’t feel his face or his hands, but he tries to get feeling back in them so he can hold his _son_. He hopes Eddie will stop worrying. Oh god, _Eddie_.

Richie knows which baby is his without having to read their names on the little tag. He looks just like Richie did in all the pictures his mom and dad have been showing him. They only let Richie in at first, and he holds their son with shaky arms, the nurse helping him. He’s got an oxygen canula on, but besides that, the nurse says that Eddie’s uterus did what it had been designed to do: protect their son.

“They are removing it,” the nurse tells him. “It’s mangled.” She grimaces. “He won’t stop bleeding.” Richie clutches their son and tries not to cry. But he’s only 17.

“Is he… is he going to be okay?” Richie finally asks.

“I think so,” the nurse confides. “I really do. I’m thinking of – of him,” she says, adjusting her pronouns. “You just enjoy your baby for right now, alright?” She leaves Richie with the birth certificate and lets Beverly and Stan in. Beverly holds the baby and Stan gets Richie a pen so he can fill out the piece of paper. On the first name line he writes Macaulay. On the middle name line, he writes Iowan, Eddie’s dad’s name. On the last name line, he writes Tozier. Then he fills in his name for father and, unfortunately, Eddie’s for ‘mother’, but Richie crosses out the word _mother_ that sits under the line. Sue him.

He lets Stan hold Macaulay, then has them swap out for Mike and Bill. While Stan and Beverly are getting the other two, Richie stands and holds their son and cries a bit. Macaulay – Mickey, he reminds himself, Eddie had wanted to nickname him Mickey – has Eddie’s eye shape and Richie hopes when he finally does open his eyes, he has Eddie’s eye color. Because if not, their son isn’t going to look like Eddie at all. He’s got Richie’s facial structure, his hair, his mouth and ears. Fuck, he’s even got Richie’s big ass forehead – fivehead, really.

Mike and Bill are enamored and too nervous to hold him, so they leave sooner rather than later and let Ben in. Ben stands and takes the baby like a natural, citing baby cousins as his point of reference. He’s so gentle with their son, Richie feels his throat close up. He’s so scared. What if Eddie doesn’t pull out of this? And what the _fuck_ had they been speaking about before this that had gotten them all bent out of shape?

“Ben,” Richie says and Ben looks up with his stupid, perfect face that isn’t Eddie’s and so can never _really_ capture Richie’s heart. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ben admits, stroking a finger down the baby’s apple red cheek. “I suddenly don’t remember what, though,” Ben admits.

“Okay, so I’m not crazy.”

“No, you’re not. Not about this, at least.” Ben chuckles. “You guys made a really cute kid.”

“We did,” Richie says, taking Mickey back. Mickey’s got a thick mop of that curly-ish brown hair that graces Richie’s head. His mouth is pouty and wide, and his forehead. It goes on for miles. But his eyes are droopy and round. Sleepy, almost. If he opens his eyes, Richie is going to see Eddie in them and cry. “What if he isn’t okay?” Richie asks quietly. How the hell is he supposed to get through the grief well enough to raise a child alone? Well, not alone. He’d have his family and the Losers. But, without Eddie?

“He’s going to be okay,” Ben says. He hugs Richie to his side and kisses the baby’s head.

Richie stays with Mickey for a little while longer, feeds him with the nurses, and then lets him back into his incubator so he can do his breathing treatment in peace. They’ve since written Macaulay I. Tozier on the little tag on his incubator. They assure Richie that once Eddie comes out of surgery and the anesthetic wears off, Mickey will be placed in the room with him.

Richie’s mom gets there, his dad staying home with Rachel and wrapping things up with the police. She sits with him, then talks in hushed tones when Beverly’s aunts come a little while later. At this point, it’s three in the morning. Richie’s bitten his nails down to the quick. Beverly can’t sit down and paces back and forth until Ben pulls her into his lap and holds her close.

Bill is having a hard time staying still too, and in response, Mike pats his lap and goes, “A seat.” Bill laughs and sits on Mike’s knees for something to do. Stan sits by Richie and holds his hand. It’s the least he can do.

Another hour passes and finally, Dr. Pope comes out.

“He’s going to be alright,” he assures them. Everyone is crying out in delight and relief. Richie can’t see because his eyes are swimming in tears. Everything is a blur. Thank god. “We did have to remove his uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries, and cervix. The former four were very damaged. The only way to stop the bleeding and prevent infection were to remove them. They took the brunt of the damage. Thankfully. Your son is alright – a miracle, I would say.” Dr. Pope shakes his head. “We removed his cervix due to new studies showing that it’s getting more and more susceptible to cancer. There’s no point leaving it in if we’ve removed the rest.”

“Makes sense,” Kyla Tozier says since her son is still trying to process. In that moment, Richie loves his mother more than anything.

“Can I see him?” Richie asks. Dr. Pope hesitates, then nods.

“Just you. We’ve only just moved him to a room. Let him wake up, acclimate, and then you can bring the others in.”

* * *

Eddie wakes up. Which, considering his last conscious thoughts, is a miracle in and of itself.

“Hey there, sleepy head.” He turns and there’s Richie, holding something or rather, someone, swaddled in his arms. “Wanna meet our baby?”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. He’s alive. Their baby is alive. Is this the best day ever or what? There’s not much that can top this. Richie puts their baby in his arms and Eddie loves them immediately. He’d been stupid to think that he’d have an issue if they had a girl. In this moment, he knows it doesn’t matter. This baby, with Richie’s hair and mouth and … face. What the fuck, why does their kid look just like Richie? “Our baby looks like you.”

“Yeah, he does,” Richie says casually.

“Why the fuck does he only look like yo-” Eddie stops, switches gears. _“He?”_

“Meet Macaulay Iowan Tozier,” Richie says with a grin. “He’s six pounds even, 20 inches long, and is okay all things considering.”

“He’s beautiful,” Eddie says, crying in relief. Oh god, he’d been so scared. Nine months of carrying this baby around and right at the end, someone takes him from them? Absolutely not. Eddie has been waiting months to see this baby. He’s so happy that he can. Mickey rolls against him, lays his head on Eddie’s chest right over his heart, and he settles, content. Eddie’s heart is full to bursting. He knows, in this moment, he’ll end anyone who tries to hurt their son. He knows Richie will do the same. “I love him.”

“I love you,” Richie says instead and takes one of Eddie’s hands. “Eddie, I have to talk to you about some things.” So Eddie listens and becomes more and more incredulous as Richie speaks more and more words. Maybe Richie should stop. It doesn’t look like Eddie is processing.

“Are you telling me,” Eddie starts, “that I got a full hysterectomy?”

“Uh, yeah,” Richie says, unsure of how Eddie is going to take this.

“To clarify: the organ that everyone defines a woman by is _out_ of my body? I can’t have any more babies?”

“No,” Richie confirms. “You can’t have any more babies.”

Eddie screams. In joy.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” Eddie asks. Everything feels amazing all of a sudden. He can’t even feel the sharp pain of his stitches or the dull ache where Mickey used to be. His baby is whole and healthy and he has_ no biologically female reproductive organs. _It feels like a million and one miracles have been performed today.

“You’re not dreaming, babe,” Richie says. He lays next to Eddie on the hospital bed, careful of his wires and wounds. “Just, please. Please. Never, ever do that to me again. I thought I lost you both. And maybe we didn’t plan for this to happen, but it did and I want you _both_.”

“Awh, Richie,” Eddie tries to tease but then he’s starting to get teary-eyed. “Okay.”

Richie wonders if he should tell Eddie that they had tried getting in contact with his mother over all of this. The woman had a right to know that her son and grandson could possibly die. Hell, the accident would be in the morning news, at this point. But Sonia Kaspbrak hadn’t picked up the phone. And Richie didn’t have it in his heart to tell Eddie about that, not right now when his boyfriend was cradling their son and kissing him all over his little, soft face, whispering sweet nothings against his baby smooth skin. This couldn’t be destroyed, not yet, not now. The bad news could wait.

“He’s perfect,” Eddie murmurs. He’s so afraid. But he’s alive. Their baby is alive. Richie is still here. Their friends are waiting to be let in because they love Richie, Eddie, and Mickey so much. They are not alone and that is all that Eddie can really dwell on. Except.

“What do you remember about the accident?” Richie asks. “The police are coming by in a few days to talk to you about it. The driver has been saying some whacky things.”

“I don’t really remember much,” Eddie concedes. He’s so enraptured with their baby. He can’t wait to feed him, change him, dress him. He already loves him so much. “Just the car, really. I don’t think I was all there. Tired maybe. I don’t remember seeing headlights.” Richie looks troubled. Eddie frowns. “Why?”

“Nothing much,” Richie says. “Just, my memory is foggy and I feel like it shouldn’t be. My memory of after, here, is too.”

“Same,” Eddie admits, still too wrapped up in their baby. Richie can’t fault him. Mickey is beautiful. “Stress?” They’d both been under the ultimate stress: fearing for your life and fearing for your loved one’s life.

“Probably,” Richie admits. “Gotta be it.” He presses closer. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“We have a baby, man,” Richie says, sounding terrified for a moment.

“Yeah, I know. But look at him.” He nods to Mickey, who’s drooling against his bare chest. “Look at those perfect little fingers. Those shiny little nails. His little toes. Oh god, his chubby thighs.”

“There’s nothing chubby about our son yet,” Richie says with a laugh.

“Not _yet_,” Eddie says and laughs.

It’s perfect. Richie wants to live in the moment forever. But he knows it will come to an end and he will have to contend with the future. For now, he sighs and sits closer.

“So, you wanna let our annoying friends in?” Richie says. “They’ve met him, but they love the newest addition to the Losers’ Club.”

“Bring ‘em on,” Eddie says with a smile. “Bring them on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to see y'all for part two: Lamp Shades On Fire!

**Author's Note:**

> This story will update every Tuesday at 5:00PM EST until finished. There are 4 chapters, fyi! So about a month for this one. This will give me time to write the other stories and be bale to update it slowly as well! I think this will guarantee that I finish this one. I'm super passionate about it. Hope y'all enjoyed!


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